Crime's Of Passion
by Deansgirl95
Summary: Rachel, Sam & Dean team up again 2 fight a monster that feeds on girls from a strip club. They find that the killings are surprisingly familiar and notorious. Can Rachel & Dean fight their growing attraction as she goes undercover as bait? Please R&R. Thn
1. Chapter 1

"A girl named Tara Davvies. A stripper in a place called 'The Diamond Club.' in Luisianna. She was found in an alley with her throat cut."

Sam read the papers he'd printed out as he and Dean drove along the highway. The Mississippi river ran along side and they cought a glimps of it every now and then when the road curved.

"Ok." Dean said. "Why is the flag raised for us? Why are we going to find a girl that seems to be just murdered?"

"Good question. You ready for this?" Sam asked, shuffleing a few of the print out's till he found the one he was looking for. Lifting it out of the pile he read slowly. "The police report says that her uterous was missing as well, removed with surgical percision. But the person who found her say's she was naked and their was no other wound any where on her body but her throat."

Dean frowned. Sam wasn't sure if it was becuase he was thinking or because of the diminishing afternnon sunlight.

"So she's missing organs, but she's not cut..." He said more to himself than to Sam.

"So either the police are wrong or somehow her uterus was taken out of her body some other way." Sam said and let it hang in the air.

Once again Dean was silent, thinking. Sam was sure.

"Dad and I had this one case not too long after you left in Kentucky. A guy said this white eyed woman attacked him and took one of his kidney's right THROUGH his back." Dean explained. "Said she just put her hand into him and pulled it throught his flesh with out leaving a mark. Dad and I found out that it was a girl who'd been killed 20 years earlier in a crazy frat initiation that had to do with the urband legend."

"The one about the people waking up in a bathtub full of ice with one of their kidney's removed." Sam added, understanding the meaning. "The victims live supposedly. I can see some crazy frat guys wanting to try it out."

"Exept that when they did it to her she bled out and died." Dean went on. "There's a reason those things are just urban legend's. They covered it up and where never found out. So anyway, we found out that the girl had some serious mental problems when she was alive. So in death, she went after the people who did it to her. Taking their organs with out having to cut them open like they did to her."

"So it's been known then?" Sam asked his brother. "Spirits CAN take something from a living body. It's gotta be a pretty pissed off spirit to be able to do something like that to a person."

"Wouldn't you be pissed off if some one took your uterus, Sammy?" Dean asked giving Sam a sideways glance.

They arrived in Louisianna close to midnight and decided that it was too late to start poking around. Well, Sam decided that. Dean wanted to go to The Diamond Club to check it out. After all, he'd said, their victim worked there.

"No Dean. There's no point. We don't even know if the witness was right about her not being cut open. We need to go to the morgue tomorrow and check out the body and get the police report. You KNOW that! You just want to go see strippers." Sam said hotly as they pulled away from the main office of the first motel they'd found with a 'VACANCY' sign.

Dean gave his brother a wicked smile. Sam had cought him red handed. He hadn't really thought that Sam would fall for something like that, he was too smart not to know that Dean had alterior motives. But he wasn't done having his fun at Sam's expense and fiegned a shocked look.

"NO!!! I just think we should start where we can, since we can't do the morgue or the police station tonight." Dean said. "If you where any kind of dedicated hunter you would agree."

"No. If I was as much of a horn dog as you are I would agree." Sam retorted. "It's late and we've been on the road all day. There's nothing we can do tonight except sleep."

"If I was as much of a tight ass as you are I would agree." Dean said as they reached the line of two story buildings the clerk at the front desk had told them their motel room was.

There where parking spaces right in front of the rooms and Dean had to go around twice before he saw one of the last empty spots left. It was further from their room than he would have liked but he didn't see much of a choice. He didn't like leaving the Impala so far away, but it would have to do for tonight.

Just as he was approaching it he saw another car comming toward them from the opposite dirction. It speed up, racing him for the space. He picked up speed as well, he would be damned if this dude got it before he did.

"Dean!!." Sam yelled as the cars came almost nose to nose. At the very last second the other car made an almost 90 degree turn into the spot. Dean had to pull the Impala hard to the left in order to avoid the collision. They came to a screeching halt on the tarmac, thrusting them forward slightly.

"Are you crazy?!!" Sam yelled as Dean threw the car into park.

"Me?!! Did you see that asshole?!!" Dean said implying the white car that was now in HIS parking space. "I'm gonna give this idiot a peice of my mind."

Dean threw open the car door and stormed out. He saw Sam come out as well, Dean was sure it was to stop him from hitting this guy in his stupid face. Which he was fuming enough to be able to do.

"Hey jerk off!" Dean yelled as he saw the white car door open. "It was my spot and you know it."

A slim figure stepped. It was a girl with long hair.

"Sorry dude. Too slow." She said not looking at him as she pulled a duffle bag across the front seat and hike it up onto her shoulder.

Dean's brow knit together in recognition. Was that...

"Rachel?" Sam called. Giving voice to Dean's thought.

Shutting the door the girl looked up in, reacting to her name. Dean saw her face fully then under the brighly lit lamps that lined the edge of the lot, it was Rachel. The girl who'd helped them on a case a about 6 weeks befor in Toledo. Dean's anger ebbed out, replaced with a fresh reminder of how beautiful she was. He'd almost forgotten how stunning she was.

"Sam?" She said, a confused look on her face. She shut the car door and let her duffle bag fall to the floor. She approached them.

"Dean? What are you two doing here?" She asked as she came to a stop befor them.

"We here to check out a case. You?" Sam asked.

"Let me guess. Tara Davvies?" She inquired.

Sam looked over at Dean who was now seeing what he should have seen befor. The white car was unmistakably her '67 Mustang.

"Yeah." Sam answered. "You just got here, Too?"

"I've been here three days already." She said then smiled. "You two following me or what?"

"Your in my spot." Dean said, annoyed anew.

She looked over at him and he saw a glint of her impossibly green eyes in the light. She wore a long sleeved black top and jeans that hugged her curves beautifully.

"Dean." She said amused. "Still a giant ball of sunshine I see. Like I said befor. Too slow, dude."

He was silent. Defeated as far as parking spaces went.

"You find anything out?" Sam asked. Getting back to business.

She looked back at him, getting more serious herself.

"Some. A few crazy things actually. You two settled in yet?"

"No. We where just about to park and do that." Dean said with malice in his voice.

She looked at Dean again and he saw her face tighten at the sight of him. _Yeah, your thinking about how good I look. _He thought, seeing how she was trying not show that she looked him up and down to take in the sight of the flannel shirt, worn jeans and boots he wore. _You look pretty damn tasty yourself_.

"Well, then." She said meeting his eyes. "I'm in room 207 on the second floor. Find another spot and come up. I'll fill you in."


	2. Chapter 2

"So Tara Davvie's was 19, a run away from New York. She was found at approximatly 4:40 on the morning of the 25th." Rachel explained handing the police report to Dean. "The police figure the time of death to be around 3:00 am, shortly after she left work."

"She was probaly still warm." Dean said as he scanned the file she'd given him.

They were in her motel room, seated around the table she had her computer set up on which was large for a motel. All her research on the case was spread out unceromoniously. After the scene in the parking lot she'd came up and to get all her dirty bra's and panties off the floor while befor the boys could find another parking space.

She tried to calm her beating heart and told herself that she was an idiot for welcoming them with open arms. She should have told them that this was her case and they needed leave. It had been about 6 weeks since they'd been in Toledo together and she was just starting to forget how her breath could catch at the sight of Dean Winchester.

But she couldn't think straight. Atfer Sam had called her name in the parking lot and she turned to realize that it had been Dean she'd stolen the spot from and that it was he who had called her a jerk off, her brain seemed to melt and gush from her ears. There he'd stood, in jeans and a flannel shirt. Looking delicious.

_I should have told them to go. I was here first.Tthis was my case. No way they could have argued. _She thought to herself angrily as she searched through her bag befor they got there for panjama pants and T-shirt. To her dismay she realized that she was _spacifically_ looking for the pajamas that she knew hung low on her hips and _spacifically_ for her grey shirt with the spaghetti straps that made her belly button and the dimples in her back peek out if she turned the right way.

_Your dressing for him! _She yelled at herself. _Your fucking dressing so he'll notice you! _

She then made it a point to pull out her ugliest pants. The black ones with the Corona bottles all over them and a plain white wife-beater shirt. She dressed with awareness that she was treading on dangerous territory by letting them stay and help with this case. She no longer tried to lie to herself that she didn't want him. But she had other priorities other than wanting Dean's attention.

Her sister was dead and she still hadn't spoken to her mother.

She still woke in the middle of the night to a dream that she was Kelly as she drowned.

She still wanted nothing for herself in life that Kelly cound't have in death.

Guilt plagued her every second.

_Too many damned issues to worry about a fucking boy, Rachel._ She thought as she finished dressing in the bathroom. She looked into the mirror as she pulled her long black hair into a pony tail.

_Ok, relax. It's just a case. _She argued with herself. _They could help, don't take it too seriously. You managed to stay away from him befor, you can do it again._

And it was with that decision that they sat here in her motel room right now going over what she had been able to uncover in the last three days.

"In that report it says that the only wound they found was the at her throat. She was cut from ear to ear. They didn't find the knife, no immediate signs of sexual assault, and they even remark about what little blood there was at the scene." Rachel said.

She then shuffled through some more strewn papers till she came upon an large yellow envalope. Which she opend, shook out a thick stack of papers and handed it to Dean. He handed Sam the police report before taking it.

"The medical examiner repot." Rachel explained.

Sam leaned closer to Dean so that he too could see. Rachel was silent as she watched them read the bizzar-ness that was on the paperwork. Their faces went through several stages of frowns and raised eye brows. She found herself having to hold back laughter and Sam's exaggerated expressions.

"Her uterus was gone and they have no explaination why or how?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Imagine their surprise." Rachel said. "They open her up and find an empty space where her uterus should be. There's no mistake that it was done surgically even. Yet she had not one other mark on her body besides her throat. Not even a bruise. They rulled out it being done vaginally and even state that it was done at the same time of her murder."

"How the hell did the killer get it out?" Dean asked looking up at her.

She leaned back in her chair slightly and brought the can of coke she'd opened to her lips.

"C'mon Dean. Your a hunter. We have to believe in magic when these people don't, you know that." She took a sip of her soda and set the can back down on the table.

"I meant how do THEY think the killer got it out? Certainly not by magic." He asked.

She laughed befor answering. "I asked the morgue technician the same question when he showed me the body. He looked scared as shit and his exact words where. 'We haven't got a fucking clue.'"

"You find anything weird on the body when you saw it?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing that would have made sense to us and not a mortician if that's what you mean. She was clean. Nothing but a slit throat and a scar where they opened her up for the autopsy."

"So what leads have you got? Any idea what did this to her or why?" Dean asked.

"I'm ready to pull every hair out of my head at this point." She admitted. "I've researched every violent death of every kind in this town and every one around it for two days now. Nothing matches. Not even remotely. I have no idea what killed her or why they took her insides out."

"So what can we do? Anything?" Sam asked.

For a moment her heart skipped a beat. If she said "nothing" would they leave? Maby she SHOULD say that. Maby this was her chance to make them go and she wouldn't have to deal with any guilt of being rude.

Why did she not want to though? She stole a glance at Dean who was looking at the coroners report still and found her gaze stopping at the hard line of his jaw. What did that part of him taste like, she wondered.

"Did you check out the place she worked yet?" Dean asked befor she could answer Sam's question.

"God. Give it a rest, Dean. Would ya?" Sam said rolling his eyes.

"No not yet. I didn't think it was important enough yet but I'm at a dead end it seems and that's the only place left to look." Rachel said, glad to not have to answer Sam's question right away.

"We'll hang around a few days. See what develops, maby we could go with you tomorrow to ask around." Sam said.

"Um... I don't think so." Rachel said. "I don't mind you hanging around to see if you can help. Hell, I definatly need it at this point, (_Great Rachel. Just great)_ but I need to go to The Diamond Club by myself."

"Why's that?" Dean asked with a frown.

"Well I suppose you could come if you wear your stelletto's and g-string's." Rachel said. Then smiled. "I've got an audition to replace Tara Davvies tomorrow."

She would dream that night of the expression on Dean's face as she finished that sentance.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean threw up his hands in frustration as he rose from his stoop at the above ground mosoleum of the late Tara Davvies. He and Sam had been checking it out for any signs of the unusual that would give a clue to what had killed her.

"Nada. You get anything on that thing?" He asked implying the EMF meter in Sam's hand.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. No electromagnatism at all. It just her in there."

Standing next to his brother Dean once again scanned the large stone box that came to his waist. And then looked down the line of graves to see that every one was just like this one. Thinking back to walking with Sam through the cemetary toward Tara's final resting place, he couldn't remember seeing one grave that wasn't just like these.

"I guess people are really claustophobic here. No one's burried in the dirt at all." He commented.

"It's not that their claustrophobic, Dean." Sam said putting the meter away. "Most of Louisianna is swamp land. The ground is no good for burial so they have to build these above the ground."

Dean looked over and comtemplated his brother. He should have known Sam would know the answer to that like everything else.

"Your just a huge vat of knowledge, huh Sammy?"

"As opposed to you being a giant 'black hole' of knowledge? I'd say it's a good thing." Sam came back.

Dean laughed sarcastically at him and was about to come up with a retort that would shut Sam up when the loud rock music of his cell phone rang out. He fished it from his pocket and saw Rachel's number in the screen. He picked it up, curious to know how her "audition" went.

"Hello?" He said.

"Dean. It's me. You two at the cemetary yet?" She asked.

Dean noted that he liked the way her voice sounded on the phone in that brief sentance. He pushed the thought aside and went to the business at hand.

"Yeah we're here now." He told her.

"Anything?" She asked.

"Nothing. Just a dead girl and a bunch of other dead people in mosoleums." He said.

"Mosoleums?" She said. He could hear the frown in her voice.

"Yeah. Most of Louisianna is swamp land so the people here have to burried above the ground. Didn't you know that?" He asked.

She was silent on the other end.

"Wow. Your just a vat of knowledge huh?" She said with a mocking tone.

Wow. He liked this girl more and more it seemed. Glancing at Sam, who was running a hand over the smooth stone of the grave and not paying attention to the conversation, he spoke to Rachel again.

"Yeah. Something like that. How'd it go at the club?"

She gave a small chuckle on the other end. "I got the job." She answered.

_Why am I not surprised? _He thought. Then he answered his own question with the realization that only the dumbess ass at a strip club would not hire her.

She was everything exotic with her long black hair, green eyes, full breast and flared hips. Dean could just imagine her long legs smooth and bare as she danced on stage for the scum bag that saw dollar signs at the crowd she would attract.

"Did you check out the place she was found at?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, about an hour ago." He answered. His thoughts comming back from the erotic image. "Nothing there either. You talk to any one in the club about her?"

"The place is closed this early. The owner was the only one there to see me and he had nothing to give." She answered.

"So what now? Check out her apartment?" Dean asked her.

She blew out a frustrated breath on the other end. "No. The owner said she lived with two other girl's who also work at the club on the other side of town. Too risky to sneak in. I start tomorrow night so let's see if I can make friends with them and get any information."

Dean knew that was the smartest thing. So until the situation presented itself, there was nothing left to do but wait. The afternoon had grown long and Dean was getting tired.

"Meet you back at the Motel?" He asked.

"I guess so." She said sounding just as fed up as he did. "Remind me why I do this again?"

He smiled. His thoughts exactly. "What else are you going to do?" Was his answer.

She was silent once again. Then, "See you in a bit."

He ended he call and turned to Sam who was looking at him waiting to hear what the other hunter had said.

"Ok. To sum it up?" He said to Sam. "Trail's cold. We found nothing but there's hope because Rachel is now officially a stripper. Let's go back to the motel and get a bite to eat shall we?"

Rachel reached the motel parking lot a half hour later. She drove up close to the building her room was in and saw the spot she wanted to get into right away. As she approached it slowly she heard the gun of an engine behind her and looked in her rearview mirror in time to catch the last glimps of the black Impala as it swerved around her on the right side then into the spot with screeching tires.

_Asshole._ She thought but smiled dispite herself. Did she really think that Dean Winchester would be bested with out some retort? No matter how small?

She spotted another space behind the one he'd taken and about 30 yeards down. She took that one and turned the car off. Sam and Dean closed their car doors just as she opened hers.

She stepped out of the car and toward them.

"You feel better now?" She asked Dean when she was close enough.

"Oh yeah." He said but not as an answer to her question. He looked her up and down to take in the clothing she was wearing.

Sam gave a whistle as well.

"You shop at 'Hoochie 'r Us' for that outfit, Rach?"

If it had been anyone else commenting like that she would have punched him in the face. But she knew Sam meant absolutly nothing about the Daisyduke-esque cut-off jeans she wore with high sandles and the tight grey t-shirt that was split from the collar to her breast bone to show off her sweeling cleavage in the most uncomfortable push-up made by man.

"I danced for a job at a strip club today, Sam." She said with a smile. "I couldn't exactly show up in a turtle neck."

As she spoke she was very aware of Dean. She could feel his eyes on her. Could almost sense the clench of his jaw at the sight of her in the skimpy clothes that showed off her body cheaply but sensously.

She looked toward him and cought his eyes just as he was tearing them away from her legs.

"I'm starving. Wanna get a bite?" She asked him.

His gaze intense he smiled slightly. "I could do that."

_I know you could sweet heart._ She thought. _So could I._

"Sam?" She asked looking over at the younger Winchester.

"Actually, I'm not feeling too good. This heat takes alot out of you." Sam said. Indeed he was right. The sweltering Luisiana heat made it hard to believe it was only the end of Febuary. "I think I'm gonna crank the air and relax. Maby I could find some thing about Tara's family in New York."

"Good luck." Rachel said. "I researched as much as I could about them and found nothing interesting. But I'm not as big a computer hacker as you are, so maby you'll have better luck."

It hit her then. She and Dean had sort of just agreed to go out to eat together, with out Sam. Who had very much become the buffer between them.

She looked back at Dean. They would be alone. Kind of like a date. She wasn't sure she was ok with being one on one with him like that, but she didn't know how she could back out of it now.

"Just us then?" He asked, staring at her with what she knew must be the same thought.

She hated herself for the fact that she didn't completely hate the idea. She wanted to keep her distance from him, but the thought of his company with his quick wit and lazy smile was not unapealing.

"Just us then." She repeated. "I'm going to go change. I'll knock on your door in 10 minuets."

"Don't on my account." He said with a cocked eyebrow.

She laughed even though her belly gave a little flutter at the fact that he liked what he saw.

"I've been hassled by every seedy guy in Louisianna today. So unless your in the mood for a barroom brawl I'm gonna go change." She said as she walked passed then toward the stairwell to the second floor.

"Your so sure I'm going defend you if a guy hits on you?" He called after her.

She turned back with a hand on her hip and smile on her face.

"What makes you think I meant you? I throw my own punches darling and I'm just not in the mood."

She climbed the stairs fully aware of him watching her ass move in the shorts.

Rachel and Dean leaned back in their chair at the round table in the dim bar as the waitress cleared their dinner plates and set down two fresh beers for the both of them.

"Thank God." Rachel said reaching for her bottle. "My lips are on fire from those fries."

"Tell me about it. I can feel the heartburn settleing in already." Dean said rubbing a hand over his chest and taking a long swallow from his own beer.

"They where really good though. I've always loved Cajun food." Rachel said.

"It doesn't get more Cajun than that." He said. "We ARE in Louisiana after all."

Rachel smiled and agreed. Her thought's went back to the initial uncertainty of being alone with him when Sam said he was gonna sit this one out and was happy to find she'd been very wrong. She had been surprisingly comfortable in his presence all night.

The conversation had been light and easy for the most part. They joked about the hillbillies that danced some form of line dance to the very southern, up-beat music the band played from a raised platform in the corner befor a small dance floor.

They laughed when he made fun of her adventurous palletupon her ordering the house 'Surf 'n Turf' buger which was topped with crawfish tails. She rubutted that Sam was probably at the motel with the air turned all the way up, sprawled out naked on Dean's bed. He laughed when she told him to get THAT image out of his head as he tried to fall alseep that night.

She also found that as she sat there with him she felt somewhat protected. She knew she was a good looking girl and for most of her adult life she had been fending off unwanted solicitations from creepy guys. Alot of those guys where in the bar tonight and she took notice at one point that a few of them would take a bit too long to walk by their table and look just a bit too long at her. She saw Dean several time's give the tiniest glare out of the corner of his eye to those guys and they would immediatly turn away. She was silently very flattered and thanks ful to him.

All in all she was having a good time. The smiles where plentiful.

He thought's swayed to Kelly several time during the night with the familiar pang of guilt that haunted her always. To Rachel's dismay she found herself destracted from her pain by Dean's company. His easy smile and handsome features where hard to ignore. She hated that her thought's where all she would have later. She knew she'd make herself pay for her momentary relief when she was alone.

"So you really ok with getting naked on a stage tomorrow?" Dean asked befor taking a drink of his beer. Taking her once again from her thoughts of misery.

She realized what he had asked and after a moment to take in the awkward question she shrugged.

"C'mon Dean. You never did anything beyond the call of duty for a case? Especially when it's gone cold like this one?" She asked.

"Never anything that required me to take my clothes off." He answered with a shrug. "But I suppose I would if I had to."

She shook off the images that that sentance put into her head. She knew that Chip & Dales would take him in a second.

"It's not fully nude." She said. "It's illegal in that part of town. So the girls just go down to bra's and panties."

He seemed to think about that for a moment. No doubt picturing her in sexy loungiere.

"I suppose that if your going to do something like that that's the lesser of the evil's" He said.

"Well, yes and no. It's not illegal for the girls to go topless in the private lapdance rooms in the back." She said and took a drink from her own bottle.

She saw his expression change. The only word she could have used for this darkened features was: Desire.

Was he imagining her dancing on some guys lap wearing nothing but a g-string? Was he imagining that it was him she would dance slowly for? Rubbing her body up against him? With dismay she realized that she was the one doing just that.

"How you gonna be able to handle that one?" He asked. His eyes still smoky.

"Oh that's a little far out of the park for me. It's only for a day or two so I'll have to just find some way to aviod that." She answered. "What's interesting is that I actually have a job."

"Yeah, I know how weird that can be. I had one once." Dean said. "At a gas station when I was 17."

"Really?" She said with a surprised frown. "I can't see you pumping gas for some reason."

"Didn't last long. Couldn't exactly tell the owner the reason I was always late was because I had to hunt down an imp that was feeding off of the people in the old age home. Could I?" He asked and took another drink of beer.

She was about to respond when the lead singer of the band spoke out over the microphone.

"Ok, everyone. we're going to take a 5 minuet break, but we ain't gona leave you nice folks with nothin'" He said in a very heavy creole accent. "We're gonna play something nice n' slow from the juke and it's lady's choice. So if any of you guys are sitting while this song is playing, sorry your such a looooser."

A few people laughed and Rachel's heart began to thud as she saw girls pulling their boyfriends or husbands the by hands to the dance floor.

Feeling awkward she turned to see Dean's eyes on her. He had an expectant smile painted on his lips.

"Get lost." She said with a grin of her own.

Instantly she wished she hadn't spoken those words. She realized it would be kind of nice and regretted her rebuke. Thankfully, Dean Winchester would not be denied.

"Oh no you don't." He said sliding his chair back.

Rachel's heart fluttered at the thought of being close enough to slow dance with him. It was emphasized by the haunting melody that filled the air.

'Take My Breath Away.' from the movie 'Top Gun.' drummed out of the juke box. One of her favorite movies from her Tom Cruise worshiping days. The song was powerful and sweet.

"Your not going to make me the only loser in this bar." He said and stood.

She didn't want to, but the sudden burst of intense shyness that came over her made her denounce him again.

"That guy is sitting down." She said as she looked up at Dean who was now standing by her chair with his hand held out for her to take.

He looked over in the direction she'd motioned to and saw the guy she meant. A tall lanky pockmarked man in a 10 gallon hat by the bar.

"I'm much better looking than him and besides, he'd still be a loser even if he was dancing." He said.

She laughed but still didn't give him her hand.

"Come on. If you do this to me I'm going to get pissed off, leave you here with the bill and go back to the motel." He threatened.

"I drove, remember?" She said with a raised eyebrown.

"And I'll hot wire your car."

With one more laugh she gave in and took his hand. "Well, how can I refuse then."

He lead her to the dance floor and she had to swallow the lump in ther throat.

_"... Watching I keep waiting Still anticipating love..."_

The soprano sang as Dean slid his hand around her waist. He took her hand and pulled her close to him, she slid her arm around his neck as they began to sway gently to the rythm of the haunting song.

His hand was warm as it wrapped around hers, she could feel the heat of the other one where it rested on the small of her back. Pressed against him she was very aware of the hard wall of his chest and the wide expanse of his shoulders.

"..._Never hesitating To became the fated ones..."_

She tried to hide the catch in her breath when she looked up into his hazel eyes to see his gaze intensly trained on her. She wondered if he could feel the pounding heart that threatened to explode from her.

Slowly they moved with eachother and she actually began to calm as she grew more comfortable in his arms.

"Is this so bad?" He asked, smiling down at her.

She smiled back up at him.

"No not so bad at all." She admitted. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that your the same guy who hated my guts in Toledo and here I am dancing with you, though."

"I was an idiot." Was all he said.

_"...If only for today, I am unafraid...Take My Breath Away..."_

Silently they moved, the dim lights cast shadows on his face and for a moment she wondered if she'd beable to see him if she wasn't so close to him.

His expression as he looked down at her was one of dizzying intensity. She could feel how he wanted her, but could also see his restraint. And for that she was thankful. She had no idea what her reaction would be if he'd come on strongly. She wasn't ready for that. None the less she saw that their closness had a effect on him as well. His beautiful features made no move to hide that as his eyes took her in.

He changed the position of his hand on hers so that his palm was on the back of her hand. Pulling her even closer, he rested both their hands on his chest below his collar bone.

She felt her breast press to him slightly as they got as close as they could and she found that his embrace was very comforting. She inhaled the spicy scent of his after shave and found that her head swam slightly with the aroma.

God, he felt good.

_"...Watching every motion In this foolish lover's game..."_

She caught sight of the gold amulet that hung from the black cloth string around his neck and an instant later she was reminded of the identical one she had owned once. The same one that now hung from her sister's neck in her casket. A shot of sadness ran through her.

_What am I doing? _She thought. The moment fleeted by a second later when she realized that she so comforted by this human contact with a man she found so appealing. The contact that she denied herself for the last 8 months since her sisters death. She let could let herself have this sencond, couldn't she? Just this one, tiny second?

She felt Dean lower his head to the crook of her neck and with out thinking about it, she did the same. Letting her eyes close and the music fill her head, she held him close, let the sadness go and danced with him.

_"...Watching in slow motion As you turn around and say...Take My Breath Away..."_

Everything else around her faded away. She wondered if he felt the same.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the night was filled with talking, drinking and a few more dances. None as slow or as sense consuming as the first, Dean thought as they paid the bill and readied to leave. Rachel insisted this one was on her and laid her credit card on the table.

The waitress picked it up and thanked "Mrs. Fitzgerald" for her generous tip. Rachel smiled at her and played the part with elegance.

"She probably thinks your Mr. Fitzgerald you know." Rachel smiled at him across the table as she finished up the last of her beer.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone thought such a thing about us." He said. Referring to the time in Toledo when one of the girls they had been trying to save from Bloody Mary thought they were a couple because of their angry banter and scolding looks at eachother. It struck Dean as funny that the first time it was because they seemed to hate eachother and this time it was because they laughed and slow danced.

Maby they just looked right together no matter what kind of repor they showed, even complete opposite ones.

"Yeah, I know." She said with a smile, recalling the memory herself.

_I'd be lucky to have her._ The thought came without any warning or notice. He had never had any trouble with girls since he was old enough to notice and want them and yet there was only one other person he could think of ever having thought that about in his whole life.

_Cassie. _Fear tickled into his brain as he tried to push the thought away. Yet he realized with concern that he had thought that about Cassie only _after_ they had made love for the first time. Here, he was thinking about a girl he hardly knew.

_It's just because she's another hunter. _He tried to rashonalize as they got up and walked toward the door. He watched her slim frame in jeans and a light cotton shirt against the muggy Louisiana night. She walked a few steps ahead of him, fishing for car keys in her bag as they crossed the parking lot toward her car.

He said in his head, realizing that he was comparing her to Cassie and Cassie had broken his heart when he told her who he really was. Called him a liar and said she never wanted to see him again. The true Dean hadn't been good enough.

Rachel knew him for what he was. There were no lies with her because she was his brethren of sorts. They were the same breed. When he talked about the early latin ritual for a blessing souls to rid them of posession she knew what he was talking about and could probably recommend a charm or two that would speed up the process.

He was himself with her. But in a world where attachment could get you killed, and Dean had enough to worry about with his own family, he was going to fight this feeling. HAD to fight this feeling.

They reached her car and she turned to him with an expected look. As if surprised to see that his features were deep in thought.

"You ok?" She said frowning.

"Yeah, just tired that's all." He said with out missing a beat.

"Well, we'll be back soon and you can hit the sack." She said opening her door.

"Yeah, gotta get some sleep. You know, with the long day of scratching our heads in bafflement tomorrow." He said trying to shake off the disturbing thoughts.

She nodded her head and leaned against the car door. They we're silent for a moment as a light gust of muggy air picked up. They looked around to the tall willow trees on the marsh behond the parking lot as the wind ruffled the long hanging leaves, making the sad, ancient looking things seem to dance.

Dean glanced at her as she watched them and saw that her beautiful long hair was doing the same. Caught in the wind the silky black strands danced behind her in a reminiscese of the the willow leaves. Looking as sultry and sensual as the trees which belonged here in the Louisiana bayou with it's simmering heat.

God, how he wanted to kiss her at that moment. How he wanted to reach out and touch that beautiful black mass to pull her in and claim her mouth. He was almost sure she'd respond. Yet he held himself back, afraid for the first time in his life to move on a female.

"We should go." He heard her say.

He saw her looking at him with full knowledge of the fact that he had just been wanting her. His thought betrayed some how. Locked with her eyes he swallowed the lump in his throat with the realization that the words she had just spoken we're her way of saying 'let's go befor this gets out of hand'.

He was about to agree with her when his phone rang.

His heart almost in his throat he took his eyes from her and answered his phone.

"Dean?" Sam said on the other line.

"Yeah, Sammy. We're on the way back now." Dean answered, assuming that that was why Sam was calling.

"Actually you guys can't come back just yet." Sam said.

Dean smiled inspite of himself at the thought of his brother telling him not to come back to the motel room. There could only be one reason for such a thing.

"Alright Sammy..." Dean chuckled into the phone. "So what, did you call a hooker or did you happen to meet a hot maid that came to turn down the bed and decided she wanted you in it instead?"

Silence on the other end from Sam.

"Are you done?" He asked in a typical montone Sammy voice.

"Yeah, I'm done. What's the deal?" Dean asked.

"I was listening to the police scanner and they found a girl with her throat cut near the park. The police are responding as we speak. I think we should head over there and meet them." Sam said.

Dean looked over at Rachel who was listening to his end of the conversation. Dean got the exact location from Sam and told him to grab their police badges and head over there in the Impala. And said that he and Rachel would meet him there. After hanging up the phone he told Rachel what Sam had said.

"Another one?" She asked.

"Yeah, Sam's meeting us there. Let's get going."

"Might be the break we need." She said as they got into the car.

"Or it just might be a girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Dean said.

She put the car into drive and they pulled out of the lot close to the trees that Dean would always from that point on would associate with her hair blowing in the wind. He watched them and thought that he wouldn't be surprised if the paled in comparison to her and her beautiful mane for the rest of his life.

"You don't really think that. As a hunter I have a feeling in my gut that we're going to find that this girl was killed by the same thing the first one was. And I know your good enough at this to feel the same way right now." She said.

After thinking about it for a moment he knew that she was right. He'd been doing this his whole life and the feeling in his chest told him they were heading toward another grisley, supernatural death that the police wouldn't be able to explain but might hold something for them to digest and figure out. He knew Sam felt the same or he wouldn't have called him. Instinct twitched at every nerve in his body as they drove in the hot Louisiana night toward the scene of the murder.

"In so many ways I hoe your right and I hope your wrong at the same time." Was all he said.

Sam and Dean waited by the Impala and watched as Rachel spoke to a young cop in uniform close to the sheet covered body of 21 year old Michelle O'Day that lay on the black asphalt near the playground of the public park, who had been killed no more than 6 hours before and had been found by a jogger about an hour and a half ago.

Sam, Dean and Rachel had arrived about 20 minuets before and sold the responding officers a story of NYPD investingating the Tara Davvies murder 8 days before and had come here because they feared that this murder was connected.

The police cooperated fully with them, letting them inspect the pretty girl who'd been cut from ear to ear with a somewhat dull blade. Dean almost wished they hadn't.

The girl lay in a pool of her own blood, which was to be expected. Sam was the first to notice that her slender frame was not right. She could have weighed no more than 110 lbs in life but her belly was swollen and mishapen in random spots. Not a beating the officer agreed becuase of the lack of bruising which would have been rushed by her death.

When the coromer arrived to examine her Dean had a chance to get his diagonsis which was that she had not been beaten but that the swelling was reminiscent of blood pooling internally. Major damage inside by the size of her midsection.

She had no other wounds but the slash at her throat. Dean would bet money at the moment that some organs we're missing and no one was going to be able to explain why. Just like with Tara Davvies.

Rachel had been right. This was the work of their demon or what ever it was. The trail had just gotten hot again. They needed to find the connection to her and Tara and figure out what the two had that would make them targets. The trail that had been cold had just heated up again.

So they waited while Rachel spoke to the officer to get as much info on the girl as possible. Finally she shook the cops hand and walked back over to them with her arms crossed over her midsection as if trying to ward off a chill that was nonexistant in the muggy dead of night they stood in now.

"They Id'd her right away. She was 21, lived here for about a year and worked near by." Rachel told them.

"She worked near by?" Sam asked. "We should start there."

"Not to worry about it Sam. It's covered already." Rachel said.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of confusion.

"Why do you say that?" Dean asked.

Rachel was quiet for a second the answered his question.

"We have a big jump on investigating the place." Rachel explained. "She worked at the same strip club Tara Davvies did."

Dean's stomach bottomed out. The two murdered girls worked at the same place.

Both had a major connectiomn to the same sleezy strip joint. The same one Rachel also now worked in.

"I start tomorrow night. It seems that I'm going to be there longer than I anticipated. At least until we figure this out." Rachel said.

No doubt she was thinking the same thing he was. What ever had done this to these poor girls, cutting them till they bled out and taking their insides out supernaturally was singleing them out from the club. The same club Rachel now worked at.

Rachel was officially a target.


	5. Chapter 5

Rachel walked into the dimly lit club at 10:00 pm the next night with her heart pounding in her chest with a fierceness that was out of character for her. As she walked through the place toward the back where she knew the managers office to be she took in all the atmosphere the scummy place had to offer.

A large bar graced the entire right side, booths with red leather coushions the other. The center was occupied by small tables with chairs, but it was the back 1/3 rd was the main focal point. Rised about 3 feet from the floor and about 6 feet wide the main stage sported three dancing poles, stobe lights above, twinkling tube light around the entire edge and at the moment, 3 almost entirely naked women who danced to loud rock music.

_God, that's going to be me in a little while._ Rachel thought. Her disgust at the the thought only increased as she passed closer to the stage and saw the five men seated around it staring up at the girls. The three she could see where practically rubbing their boners shamlessly through their pants.

One especially greasy looking character caught her eye and winked before she disappeared in the coridor behind the stage that led to the management office.

Rachel tasted bile and almost regretted that she hadn't let Sam and Dean come tonight like they wanted to, to keep an eye on her. Well, she regretted not letting Sam come. Dean, she knew, would be a dog with all the female flesh the place had to offer. Sam would have been the big brother type and would have done nothing but make sure that she was untouched by the sleeze bags that hung around. As she knocked on the managers door she noted to herself that she had to stop thinking of Sam as such an A-sexual being and give him a little credit. She'd almost made herself laugh at that thought when Max Clarkson answered the door.

"Rachel. Right on time. Come on in." He called with a warm smile.

"Hello Max." She answered back walking in a closing the door, thinking to herself how surprised she still was by him. He was a long shot from the sleezy club owner she thought she see on her audition.

Instead of the short balding man with the open shirt and tacky gold chains, Max was a tall, handsom man with a slender build and intense blue eyes. He wore well tailored suits and was easy to smile. When she'd danced for him he'd watched her almost tastefully. Making her feel much more comfortable than Grease Ball outside would, she was sure.

"You bring the paperwork I asked you for?" He asked as he sat behind his highly polished desk and mothioned for her to sit in one of the leather wingbacks set befor it.

"I sure did." She said reaching into her back and producing the fake birth certificate and social security card Sam had helped her forge earlier in the day which would put her on the payroll here at the Diamond Club and provide her with the cover she needed to investigate place that employed two girls who had been murdered within 8 days of eachother.

She handed the documents over and as he started to input her inforation into his computer, she took the chance to look around his office. It was the gun's and the knives that caught her attention more than anything else. Mounted in glass cases and sheathed in ornate coverings, his collection was wide spanned in age and era.

"Some collection you got here." She said trying not to sound alarmed.

He smiled at her without taking his eyes from the computer.

"Yeah. I'm a bit of a war buff and that's where most of these pieces are from. Take this baby for example," He said and motioned a rusted long barrelled gun sitting on his desk in a glass case. "My pride and joy. It's rumored that this was taken from Custers main Leiutenant who was killed next to him."

"She's a beauty, she is." Rachel said trying to sound interested when in fact she was a little creeped out.

"And a few of them are from royaly. Like that one, which belonged to a samuri prince, that one which was part of the kings personal arsonal in the 7th Ming Dynasty." Max continued pointing to two Samuri swords. "And this one which belonged to an English prince."

"Priceless treausures." Rachel said, her red flags rising. "Why do you have them here? if you don't mind me asking"

"No I don't mind." Max said. "I spend more time here than I do at home. So if they where there I wouldn't be able to enjoy them as much as I do."

That statment was the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned and she decided not to push it.

She was relieved when he handed her back her things and told her her work schedual. She'd be on four nights a week, Saturady through Tuesday with 5 dances on the main stage a night. The rest of the time when she was not doing lapdances in one of the back rooms, she would be waitressing.

Feeling disgusted once again she headed to the back dressing room he'd directed her to, to get ready for her first stint as a stripper.

As she walked she wondered how she was ever going to do this. She'd gone above the call of duty for a case in the past but this was a different breed of sacrifice. She'd never once thought she'd have to use her body to get what she needed. There where names for women like that and she wasn't one of them.

But then it occured to her that she'd lost more than her dignity for a case in the past, including her little sister. Which was the hardest thing to have to lose so her clothes shouldn't be a problem after that.

She walked into the backstage dressing room to a flurry of activity of women in various stages of undress. From jeans and tank tops like Rachel now wore to just g-strings like the gorgeous blond that walked past her. Her large, perfect breasts bouncing slightly as she walked.

The room was brightly lit and sported lighted vanity mirrors along one side, lockers in the back and garment racks overflowing with costumes and boas and shoes of every kind.

No one noticed Rachel as she headed in the back toward the lockers and for that she was greatful. She'd decided to let the girls approach her before she asked questions about the two dead girls so as not to look like a cop undercover.

She found the locker she was looking for and starered at it in irony. The lockers where decorated in many different ways but when she looked at hers, #32, she found that near the top, written on paper tape was the name "Tara" in beautifully scrolled handwritting.

This was Tara Davvies locker. Now her locker because Tara Davvies was dead. Never to write in that elegant penmanship again.

"You look a little lost, Darlin'. Can I help you with something?"

Rachel heard a very souther accent ask her. She looked to the right and saw that the voice belonged a lovely brunette who was smiling at her from ear to ear.

"Um yeah, I just found my locker actually. #32." Rachel said.

The brunette looked and saw the locker Rachel pointed at. Her smile vanished when she saw Tara's name.

"Wow. I guess old Max doesn't wast time does he?" The girl said.

Rachel frowned at her.

"I'm sorry Darlin'. I'm Vivian O'Shea. Tara was my roomate and a really good friend. Max replacin' her so quick is a little harsh I think. Not that any of it's your fault though."

"I'm Rachel. Nice to meet you Vivian. Was Tara fired or something?" Rachel asked, thrilled inside at her good fortune to find a friend of Tara's this easy. Especially one that was as seemingly willing to talk as Vivian was.

"No baby. Tara died week before last." Vivian said sadly. Rachel did her best to look horrified. "Yeah. Some guy cut her throat after she left work. Didn't you hear about it in the paper?"

Rachel shook her head. "No. I've only been in town about 10 days and been so busy looking for a job and a place to stay. I'm so sorry, that must be so hard for you."

"Yeah Tara was my girl. Police have no idea who did it yet. They where crawling all over my apartment asking about boyfriends and such. But Tara didn't have no one hatin' on her. She was a good girl, Tara was. Just looking to make some money 'fore she moved on to California." Vivian Said.

"So what do you think happened?" Rachel asked.

"I'm not sure. Just think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maby some creep followed her from here or something, wanted a little extra, you know?" Vivian Said.

"Does that happen alot?" Rachel asked with fienged fright in her voice and her eyes wide.

"You don't worry your pretty little head about it Darlin'. You ain't got nuttin to worry about. The guys here they take care of us."

Rachel was sure she meant the huge body guards she'd seen scattered over the place when she walked in. From what she knew about the place they stood out on the floor and kept the handsy guys in check. In the private lapdance rooms they stood right outside the doors so all a girl had to do was call for help if she needed it. But they didn't walk them home at night, so she wasn't exactly sure why Vivian had mentioned that.

She was almost certain that none of these girls knew about Michelle yet. The other girl that had been killed less than 24 hours ago.

"I'm sorry about your friend." Rachel said, trying to get back on the subject of Tara. "I'm sure she was a great girl."

Vivian smiled sadly. "She was. I'll tell you all about her one of these days. Hopefully you'll be with us a while and we can get to know eachother. You got a dance comming up? Need some help getting ready?"

And with that Rachel knew that for the moment that was all she was going to get out of Vivian about Tara. She had nothing left to do but be the new girl and hope that someone would speak up about these girls to her as she got to know them.

All that was left to do now was dance and pray that noone wanted a lapdance from her.

Rachel stood behind the curtain of the main stage 15 minuets later wearing almost nothing. Vivian had helped her pick out the outfit and do her make-up which was much more suddle than she would have thought a stripper needed but she hadn't complained as Vivian directed her with eyeliner and lip gloss. Her main concern was to get close to the girl and her grooming presented just such an opportunity.

Now the moment of truth had arrived. She had to dance and strip down to nothing but a g-string and string bikini top under sequined tank and mini skirt she now wore. And she had to do it all wearing the black stelletto's that were already starting to hurt. And to top it off, it had to be done on a pole.

As the music started outside and she waited for her que with the other two girls that would share the stage with her Rachel thought of her poor father. Wonderful hunter, killed doing what he did best when she was a little girl, adored the ground she and Kelly walked on.

What would he say to her doing this now for a hunt? Would he be proud?

Or would he smack the make-up off her face, throw his own shirt over her to cover the skin he didn't want showing and drag her out by her slightly teased hair?

She had no clue but the time to think about it went by too quickly because the other two girls moved out as the loud hard beated music reached it's first credeso and she had no choice but to take the stage and the third pole.

She grabbed the pole and started moving her body with out thinking about it too much. Making her movents sharp to match the beat. She did everything she could not to look out into the crowd but found that she couldn't help it, making eye contact with several men seated near her. Each was smiling broadly.

She arched her back against the pole and noting what the girl infront of her did, started to unzip her top like she was. She felt a strange heat rush through her as she reached her navel with the zipper and the front of the top fell open. Hot and exciting, she pulsed her chest to another beat of the music and the top slipped from one of her shoulders to hooting applause.

Smiling now, she let the fabric slip down her body till her top was clad only in the black bikini top. Her heart pounded as she turned around the pole with several erotic movements that included wrapping a leg around it and arching her back until her long black hair touched the floor, but she was almost horrified to note that her heart wasn't beating in nervous apprehention now but in excitment and pleasure.

This was almost fun. Was she crazy?!!!

Every now and then she would look out into the crowd and see the effect she was having on them. They were enjoying her and her body and she found that it was with trembling fingers she pulled the zipper on her skirt down slowly, in order to delay the sensual act and draw it out. She pushed the skirt down her hips just as slowly with a few rolls of her pelvis and heard the crowd react.

The thing slipped down her long legs and just like that she covered in nothing but a g-string, bikini top and the stiletto's, which for some reason wern't the hinderance she thought they be. The made her legs look long and lean and femine.

As she continued to dance she ran her hands down her curves and felt like she must be glowing from the heat eminating from her body. The music pumped, she felt sexy and she knew that she would hate herself later for it all.


	6. Chapter 6

Later that night it got no better for Rachel. She'd already done her 5 stage dances and felt like a guilty little whore after each one for liking it so much. The only time she felt decent was when she was waitressing and speaking to the girls who were actually a lot nicer and less cattier than she thought they'd be. But so far no new info had worked it's way into the conversation.

But she had managed to get asked out for a drink by three of them, including Vivian, after work the following night. She said yes as quickly as she could without sounding desperate. Relishing the chance that she would have the opportunity to speak to them outside of the noisy club on a one on one level. Maybe by then they would have been made aware of Michelle's death and they could talk about her, too.

She'd received several phone call's through out the night by Sam and Dean asking if she was OK and making sure that no one had stepped out of line with her. She'd smiled when Dean had asked if he needed to come down there and kick any overly handsy guy's ass. Flattered and a little imbarrest she declined. The thought of him coming there and seeing her on stage with her sexy new attitude while she was practically naked made her chest blaze with heat and butterflies erupted in her stomach.

Would he like her body? Would he look at her the way the men that watched the show did? She could see his hazel eyes heavily lidded with desire and had to end the call quick or get too flustered to talk.

She'd managed to dodge every lapdance she was asked for that night by redirecting the guy's to another girl that she gave unknown credit to being a hot little vixen in the back room's but she wasn't sure how long she could keep it up for. Already Vivian, who had caught on to her, told her she better shake her ass and do at least one in good faith for Max.

It was with Vivian's words echoing in her head that she agreed when she was paid for one by the best man of a bachelor party for the groom. He was a little older than her, maybe late 20's, cute enough, slightly muscular. But what really made her say OK was the fact that the guy looked like he was ready to melt in shame at being in the place. She'd take her chances with this poor wall flower before she had to do it with one of the more abrasive guy's who'd approached her all night.

She smiled at the groom, took his hand and pulled him out of his seat to whoot's and whistles from his bridal party, leading him to one of the back rooms. He avoided eye contact the whole time but smiled nonetheless.

Her heart started pumping again when she remembered that she would have to strip completely out of the mini skirt and belly shirt that was the waitresses uniform to nothing but her G-string. She'd have to go topless in the back room as she grinned on this guy.

She found that she was terrified that she might like that too.

Passing one of the big bouncers, a large black man with a bald head named Tiny who would keep watch and an ear out for her safety while she was alone with the groom, she entered the small room with a single chair in the middle and closed the door. Speakers in the corners filled the room with the same music that played on the outside at a lower level.

Heat beating so fast she couldn't hear anything but the thunderous drum of it in her ears, she kept the air of calm and asked the groom his name as she directed him to sit in the chair.

"Michael." He said as she sat and wiped his palms on his jeans.

"I'm Rachel, and I just want you to know that this is my first lap dance. So I'm sorry if I screw it up." She didn't know why she said that but she was almost positive it was because she was trying to stall.

"It's mine too, so don't worry about it." Michael answered, smiling nervously.

The music changed from a mellow southern pop song to a slow, heavy rhythmic beat. "Black Velvet" by some chick whose name she couldn't remember. Might as well, get this over with.

She kicked off her heels, walked to Michael and put her hands on his shoulders as the slow beat of the drum began. She began to gently circle her hips as he watched and saw him swallow a hard. She ran her hands down his chest and felt his heart thump against her fingertips.

The now familiar heat spread in her chest as she threw her thigh over his and arched her back. The music filled her head and she closed her eyes, relishing in the soft femininity that she had discovered only tonight. In the darkness behind her eyelids she saw a sight that filled her both with excitement and terror.

Dean Winchester's face in place of Michael's filled her imagination and it made her thought's jump with pleasure. It was Dean's hands, not Michael's, that she guided up her sides with her own to push her shirt up over her head as she undulated her body to the hot beat of the music.

"Black Velvet in that little boy's smile..."

Her skin prickled and she kept her eyes closed as she straddled his lap completely and leaned over him, sliding her hand down his arm, her head bent over the crook of his neck as Dean's had been last night as they danced. She felt his hands on her waist and relished the feeling, completely lost in her fantasy of the elder Winchester.

She reached in back and undid the zipper on her skirt, pushing off the chair she turned around and slid the skirt down her hips till it pooled at her bare feel. The cool air felt wonderful on her almost bare bottom as in her minds eye she saw Dean's face harden in want of her. She slid her hands down over her hips and arched her back till she felt the ends of her hair tickle her thighs.

In time with the music she lowered herself between Michael's parted thighs till her butt pressed against his crotch and began to grind. She heard a low growl behind her as she started to grind her hips against the hard resistance she found there and smiled slightly to herself.

She could never remember feeling so sexy, so female, so hot. Reluctantly she realized that all her months of depriving herself of human contact amplified her feelings right now. And the man she wanted begrudgingly, Dean, had implanted himself in her brain now to complete the sensory intoxication she was letting herself explore right now.

She felt his fingers curl like snakes on the sensitive skin of her hips as she pushed her ass into his crotch erotically, and she let him. He was gentle and not threatening and she was able to keep the image of it being Dean in her head. Especially when she felt a delicious chill shoot up her spine at the flesh one flesh contact.

She pulled her long hair to one side over her shoulder, exposing her back and the ties of her top. Excitement shot through her as he took her que and gently pulled the string to undo tie at her neck. Pleasure shot through her belly as he trailed his fingers down her spine to get the one below.

Feeling the closures fall away, she pushed her hair back over her shoulder so that it lay in dark waves down her back once more and arched against him till she felt his breath on her collar bone, which sent shivers over her whole body.

She pulled at the top that still clung to her until it was gone and her large, upturned breast free and she was wonderfully exposed to his sight. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his hips jut up slightly, pressing the wonderful hardness there against her more fully. Her nipples pearled instantly but it had nothing to do with the air-conditioning but more with the intense arousal she allowed herself thinking that it was Dean that watched her and shared her passion.

Keeping her eyes closed so as not to ruin her fantasy, she turned and straddled him once more. Facing him this time, her breast where directly in line with his face and she felt his hot breath on her skin and the bulge that pressed angrily from his jeans was pressed against her most sensitive spot.

She felt his hands slid up her back, down to her hips then back up again as she ground herself into him in time with the music. He didn't dare go any further, which she was thankful for for she had not lost herself completly in her imagination and was ready to stop the moment he went too far. But he respected his limits and writhed in the feeling of him touching her so sensuously.

She ran her hands down his arms, his chest, trained fingertips down his neck, arched herself deliciously against him then back as he splayed his fingers against her ribs to support her. She reached behind and with her hands on his knees for extra support began grinding her pelvis hard into him in the most intimate and erotic way she could while they still had their clothes on. Pleasure hot in her belly at the contact.

The music had reached the most thunderous part as she flexed her hips harder and faster against him from her arched position, her nipples pointed at the ceiling, hair falling behind her in a black curtain.

She heard the soft curses escape his lips as her dance reached it's peak and even an "Oh God...". In her head, Dean smiled at her with that beautifully wicked grin and just like that the song was over and regrettably so was her dance.

Heart pounding she opened her eyes slowly and let the fantasy melt away. She wasn't dancing on Dean's lap, but a really nice guy named Michael who had a fiancee waiting at home for him. Instantly she felt like she had used him. Used him for her own sick little daydream the reality of which was just beginning to creep into her consciousness.

She looked at him from her position which was still on his lap and saw his lips parted, eyes slightly wide and his chest heaving a little.

"Wow." He said.

She managed to smile at him then slipped a hand over her breast as she stood up. Her legs trembled a little from the adrenaline as she bent over to pick up her bikini top from the spot she had let it fall. Fastening it on she heard him thank her earnestly and she found herself very flattered in her mounting horror.

Dressed completly now she took his hand and walked him back to his table to be polite. She marched back into the dressing room and found her own clothes in Tara Davvies locker. She was glad that there where few girls here now as it was almost 2 in the morning and most of their shifts where over. She shot a glance at the clock and noticed that she had 15 minutes till hers was over as well.

Fuck it. She thought. I'm outta here right now.

Dressed in her jeans and tank top she grabbed her bag and fished her keys out of it. As she walked out of the club she saw that her phone had two missed calls on it; both from Sam and the last one being only 10 minuets ago. The same time that she had been in the back room with a complete stranger imagining that she was dry fucking his brother.

They were still awake. And probably waiting for her to get back safely. Great.

She opened the door to her car, got in and slammed the door. Behind the steering wheel she let everything that had just happened sink in fully. She had danced like a whore almost completly naked on a strangers lap! Taking a deep breath she realized that it wasn't that that had her so upset.

She had imagined he was Dean. Dean Winchester. She had pretended that every touch, every grind had been with him. She knew that her intensity in the dance would not have been as passionate if she hadn't pictured him there.

She had lost control with him in her head. How much longer would it be until she lost control with him in real life? She wanted him more badly than she had been willing to admit. She'd let him dance with her slowly and close last night in the bar and tonight she'd let passion take over with him in her head.

Her sisters smiling face was the next thing she saw in her mind as the guilt of it all poured over her in a wave of tears that burst forth. She leaned over the steering wheel and cried for her baby sister who she didn't find enough respect for to keep her own lust at bay. She didn't deserve to feel that good. Not when Kelly was rotting in a grave.

She would not let Dean get the best of her. She promised that she was going to close off everything she felt from this moment on and be done with it. It was a long time before she could steady herself enough to drive back to the hotel.

Dean peeked through the window again at the stair case he knew Rachel would have to climb soon to get to her room. He checked the watch on the night stand and saw that her shift had ended 20 minuets ago, so she should be on her way back right now.

"She's not back in 10 minuets, Sammy, I'm going out to find her." Dean called to his brother who was looking up female ritual killings on his laptop on his bed.

"She'll be fine, Dean. I'm sure she's on her way back now." Sam answered without lifting his head.

"She's not answering her phone." Dean said keeping an eye on the stairs.

Be hind him he head Sam let out a frustrated breath and could almost see him running a hand through his floppy hair as he looked up.

"She a stripper, Dean." Sam called out. "She can't answer the phone all night like she's sitting around doing nothing."

"Don't call her that!" Dean insisted, throwing a hard glance at his brother. "She's just pretending to be a stripper. For the case." Having said that he returned to his staircase vigil.

"Wow." He heard Sam mutter under his breath.

"Wow what, Sam?"

"Wow I can't believe how much you've fallen for this girl." Sam called out brazenly.

"Oh get over it will ya?" Dean said without looking back.

"OK, and one more 'Wow' for how much denial your in." Sam shot. Dean was about to turn and shut him up when he saw Rachel's small frame start to climb the stairs.

"She's back." He said as his heart gave a little jump he tried to ignore.

He heard Sam get off the bed and fall into step behind him as he opened the door and stepped out.

"Rachel." He called.

She stopped in mid-step as he approached but didn't turn around right away. He swore he saw her shoulders slump slightly when she heard his voice.

He and Sam came to stop at the foot of the stairs just as she turned around. She was on maybe the third step which put her as the same height as him. He pulled back and frowned a little at the sight of her. She had her arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold, her eyes looked puffy and red.

"You OK?" He asked.

She didn't look at him but at the floor as she answered. "Yeah. Everything went good. I met Tara's best friend and I was invited out to have a drink with a few her and few other girls who knew her. It's not much but it's a start."

"What about any of the guys who work there?" Sam asked. Dean noticed that she looked up and met his eyes. "Any gut feelings about them?"

She shook her head and answered in a shaky voice. "From what I can tell at this point they do everything they can to keep an eye on those girls. but I wouldn't rule anything out yet."

"How about everything else?" Dean asked, "Was everything else OK?" He noticed that once again she avoided his eyes as she answered.

"Yeah. Nothing too bad. Takes some getting used to but it'll be OK for the run of it."

What's going on here? Dean thought as he noticed ho truly puffy her eyes where.

"Rachel?" He asked "Have you been crying?"

"No." She answered too quickly. "No. I'm just tired is all, It's been a long night. I'm gonna hit the sack. I'll meet you two at like 10 for breakfast and fill you in on the rest. I'm beat."

"Yeah, sure Rach." Sam said. "Good night."

"'Night." She said and turned to climb the stairs once again.

Sam gave him a frowning look as they walked back to their room.

"That was weird." Sam said. "You think she was keeping something from us?"

Thinking about the very same thing, Dean delayed his answer to his brother as he pulled pajamas out of his bag. He could go to bed now that she was back.

"No." He answered Sam finally. "I think she's a little freaked out by her drastic change of career tonight and just need's to sleep a while."

Sam seemed to be happy with that and Dean saw him getting his own pajama's out of his bag as he disappeared into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. The mystery of why Rachel had not looked at him still played on his mind, but he was happy that the fatigue of non-sleep crept into his brain enough to numb the question.


	7. Chapter 7

_...Rachel was drowning again. Being pulled under the murky water by the unseen spirit of the little girl. She was more angry than Rachel had anticipated. And that miscalculation was costing Rachel her life now. _

_She saw herself in the distance. Swimming as fast as she could. But not fast enough. Not fast enough to reach her drowning self in time. It was over. She was going to die. It was with a cry of anguish that she was pulled under the water for the final time. She felt her lungs burn to inhale oxygen that didn't exists in the water. _

_And still, the other Rachel was too far away..._

Rachel awoke in her bed with a startled cry. Covered in sweat, she sat up quickly and took several deep breaths to calm herself. Slowly, she was able to and her pounding heart slowed. She took a glance at the clock on the night stand; 4:30 am on the dot. She'd only been asleep for two hours.

The dream again. She knew it would come tonight. After her hethenistic stint, a reminder of her failure and a cruel snap back into the reality that was her life in which she no longer shared with her sister.

Still sitting in bed, she felt her chest constrict almost painfully as a wave of sadness washed over her. Kelly was dead. She hadn't seen her baby sister in months, hadn't spoken to her or laughed with her or stolen her clothes when she'd run out of clean ones or braided her hair because Kelly liked French braids and couldn't do them to herself. None of that.

At that moment, the force of missing her came on so suddenly that Rachel felt it like a fist clenched around her stomach which began to twist painfully. She couldn't help the small moan of anguish that escaped her just before she began to sob, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook.

Seconds, minuets, hours it seemed went by as Rachel cried. The hurt so immense she thought for a second she'd go mad. She wanted to scream but instead she tried to calm her shaking insides enough to stop crying. The calm came slowly and when she was finally able to, she looked back at the clock and saw that less than 6 minuets had went by.

Puffy and swollen eyed, she pushed herself out of bed and went to the air conditioning vent near the window. Sitting on the floor Indian style in front of it, she let the cool air waif over her heated skin and dry the tears that she still had on her cheeks.

Shutting her eyes, she told herself that it was OK to just not think for a moment as she sat there in the dark in the middle of the night.

Sometimes she felt like her brain and her thoughts were her worst enemy. The constant debating and assault of memories sometimes made her wish for the escape of total oblivion. Freedom from thought, if only for a moment to just be able to relax and not think.

How she was to achieve that she had no idea. Not even sleep offered her rest from the barrage of her hurt and anguish that was her life now. When she slept she dreamt. Dreamt that she was Kelly as she died. Her last sight that of herself swimming in the distance. Exactly what Kelly must have seen just before she drowned.

To another person, one who didn't know the things Rachel did, death would seem like a welcome release. But Rachel's whole life dealt with the fact that consciousness went on after death and sometimes it got violent with things that a person couldn't let go of. She destroyed spirits like that and knew that she presently had the makings of that kind of lost soul.

No. Death held no appeal to her because she knew her suffering would continue on a bigger level, perhaps for ever. She wanted quite the opposite in fact. Living was the only way that she could come to terms with what happened to Kelly. She hoped she'd get there eventually.

And she wanted to resolve all that so that she could be with her father and sister when the time came. Not stuck here to her pain like the monsters she destroyed.

Rachel blinked in surprise. That thought had actually been a hopeful one. She felt a little better already for having thought it so casually. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

She stood up. Her heart still heavy but once again bearable. Looking around with her night vision in full swing she took in the small room and a mild claustrophobia took a hold of her. The rumpled bed she knew held no sleep for her anytime soon and she was almost loathe to get back into it and just stare at the ceiling.

Turning toward the window again, she pulled back the curtain and peered over the parking lot to a line of willow trees not too far away. She knew that they bordered the bank of the small lake that stood on the motel's property.

She glanced at the clock again and decided that a small venture outside wouldn't hurt. She'd stay close to the lights in the parking lot and be back after she got a little air.

Convinced, she turned toward the bed to get her flip flops.

Dean couldn't sleep. He'd been trying for the last 2 hours to no avail. Every time he tried the thought of Rachel's odd behavior kept him guessing as to what could have been wrong. Other thought's contributed to his insomnia as well. Like if she'd had some bad experience at the club that had shaken her up and she didn't want to say anything because she knew he'd kill the guy. He and SAM would kill the guy. He corrected himself.

At the moment he was thinking about Cassie. Why he was thinking about the girl that had almost broken his heart he couldn't say.

_Damn it, Dean. _He thought. _Your only thinking to yourself, it's OK to admit it. She broke it so much you STILL think about it. _

She'd rejected him. Called him a liar. When all he did was try to be honest because he cared about her.

The restlessness caught up with him and he felt it in his back which was staring to ache from lying the the same position for 45 minutes now. He kicked the covers off and immediately the frigid temperature in the room assaulted him. Chills making his skin dimple he glanced at Sam, asleep in his own bed with the covers pulled up over his head. Dean cursed at him under his breath for having the AC turned up as far as it could go.

Getting up, he rounded his bed to the vent controls under the window. Squinting in the dark, he tried to see how to lower it up but just couldn't make out the tiny letters.

It was when he pushed the curtain aside to let in some light that he saw her. Rachel, crossing the parking lot in her pajama's. He saw her back as she moved away from him toward the far end of the parking lot to the lawn beyond, but the lamps that lit the lot cast a glow on her slim frame and long hair so that he knew it was her without seeing her face.

Frowning, he watched as she moved beyond the light to the trees that clustered together on the bank of the small lake he'd noticed driving out the other day.

What the Hell was she doing? Did she not realize there was something out there killing girls? Taking their insides? HE doubted she was armed by the look of her cotton PJ pants, black tank top and flip flops.

Straightening up, he let the curtain fall back into place and thought about following her. Something was bothering her and he had to find out what it was. The thought crossed his mind that maybe she was hiding something but he shot it down quickly. What ever was wrong, she looked upset about it, trying to hide something didn't make you cry like she had undoubtedly done before she'd came back from the club by the look of her puffy and swollen eyes.

He stood there in the cold air from the air conditioning in the dark, Sam snoring peacefully in bed behind him and knew that he could just not let her be out there alone. He had to find out if she would look at him.

The perfect excuse to follow her popped into his head suddenly and he turned and opened the night stand draw next to his bed. He rummaged though it until he found what he was looking for. The object in hand, he took one last look at Sam and left him in the igloo he'd created to go out into the night and find Rachel.

Rachel sat comfortably against the roots of the big willow tree, almost encased by the long swaying branches and leaves that hung down. Arms folded on her bended knees, she looked out over the dark water of the lake and it took her back to another lake. Bigger than this one...and haunted.

The stars shone gently on the surface of this unhaunted lake and at the far end Rachel could see part of the 3/4 moon reflected back. Rachel struggled against the tears that threatened to come. She's come here to find peace for a moment and was instead being pulled into memories that hurt so bad she could scream.

She was just started thinking that it would be too hard to stay here and that maybe she should head back when her thoughts were interrupted by a deep, familiar voice.

"If you want, tomorrow I'll make you a sandwich board sign that say's 'come and get me crazy, throat slashing, ovary eating demon.'" Dean Winchester said as she looked up at his when he stepped around the trunk of her willow. "You can wear it to work and strip out of it if you want."

She couldn't help but smile. There he was, in light gray pajama pants, a white T-shirt and bare feet in the grass looking down at her. Her heart gave an involuntary thump of excitement.

"Your right. I just couldn't sleep though." She said and then frowned up at him as the thought occurred to her. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Sam's trying to turn me into and ice cube in that room." He answered as he lowered himself to the ground next to her. "The severe nipple-itis woke me."

She stared at him, confused.

"I didn't think boys got nipple-itis." She said, slightly amused.

"Anything with nipples is susceptible to nipple-itis." He said seriously.

Once again she laughed. Drawn away from her sad thought, she found herself grateful for his unexpected arrival.

"I saw you from the window and figured you wouldn't mind some company." He said.

"I don't mind. I just needed some air." She told him honestly.

"And, I remembered that once you had wanted to see this." He said and handed her a thick, brown leather book with a front snap enclosure. She took it with a frown and was surprised when it was heavier than she would have thought by the size of it.

With wide eyes, she realized what it was just as he began to explain.

"My dad's journal." He said. "You wanted to see it in Toledo and I was too much of a bastard to let you."

"Yeah, I remember." She said with awe as she undid the snap and opened it up to the middle where she saw complex drawings of different symbols. She recognized only one, A Devil's Trap. She couldn't read the writing that accompanied the symbols in the available light but her heart raced with the prospect of being able to study a life long accumulation of knowledge from a hunter as brilliant as John Winchester.

She flipped through a few more pages, aware of Dean watching her fascination as she saw more drawings and sketches and accounts of the strange things his father had dealt with over the years.

"Wow, now I'll never get to sleep." She said as she turned more pages.

"Your dad never kept a journal?" Dean asked.

"No." Rachel said shaking her head. "He was a good hunter, but my mother never let him be as devoted as he wanted to be. He was never able to put his whole heart in it like he wanted to. Like your dad."

They were silent as she continued to scan the jumbled information in the journal. Looking back up at him she saw a that he was very pleased with himself for making her so happy. She tried to ignore it.

"Thank you, Dean." She said quietly. "I promise I'll return it without a scratch."

"Too late. You can't see it in the dark but that things banged up beyond repair already. It's been through a lot." He said.

She chuckled, looking back down at it. "I'm sure it has."

She suddenly remembered the sadness that had threaten to overtake her a few moments ago and realized that it was gone once again in his presence. The thought made her fell relief and guilt in the same emotion.

"What was the matter tonight, Rachel?" He asked.

She looked up, thrown off by the question all she could do was look at what she could see of his eyes. He looked back.

"Why couldn't you look at me tonight?"

She didn't answer. As they looked at one another she tried to measure how much honesty was too much. She absolutely could not tell him that she had fantasized about rubbing her body over his in a hot, slow lapdance and had lost herself in the pleasure of it. But she didn't think part of the truth would be so bad. She took a deep breath.

"Because I was disgusted with myself and I was afraid that you'd see it." She blurted. "You can spot bullshit easily and I was scared to lie and look at you at the same time."

"Why?" He asked never taking his eyes from her.

"I took to stripping a lot better than I ever thought that I would. I'm shocked at myself more than anything. Not to mention imbarrest." She said.

"You liked it?" He asked.

She hesitated to answer and he held her eyes in the silence. She gave in.

"Too much to be healthy." She said.

The look on his face betrayed his thoughts instantly. He clenched his jaw and nit his brow slightly. Rachel was reminded of how she had imagined his features as he watched and felt her dance. He liked the idea of that she enjoyed taking her clothes off.

"Don't feel bad about it," He said, breaking their gaze to look down. "it was bound to happen."

She frowned at him.

"It's not taking your clothes off that makes you feel like that." He explained. "It's the reaction you get from it I bet."

She figured that much out on some level already.

"Your probably right. But still..." She said and looked back down at the book in her hands.

"How did you think it would be?" He asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't think that I was expecting it fully. I didn't think about it too much. I guess I thought that I would just kind of do it and that's it." She said honestly.

"Your right. You didn't think about it then." He said. "You should have been prepared for that. Your a beautiful girl, Rachel."

Her heart took a leap and she stopped breathing the instant the words touched her ears. What she hadn't been prepared for was that sentence and how she would feel when it was said. He just said she was beautiful!

She leaned her head back against the tree and tilted her head to look at him. She found his gaze already intently on her.

"You think I'm beautiful?" She asked boldly.

His face was serious and thoughtful at the same time. He answered her quietly.

"Any man with eyes KNOWS your beautiful."

They stared at one another. The moment hanging in the air between them. She knew their attraction to each other wasn't a secret but this was the first time it had been put into words of any kind. Up until then it had been shy glances and smiles when one thought the other wasn't looking. It had been arguing and blazing looks and harsh words, then had been calm repor and body language. Never words as bold and plain as this.

"With or without clothes." He finished.

Again they just held each others eyes. She wasn't sure what she should say or feel at the moment. Here she was, sitting under a weeping willow tree in the middle of a sultry Louisiana night with another hunter that made her senses swim.

She wanted to lean over and kiss his beautiful pouty mouth so bad that she almost let the urge take over the other thoughts in her mind which were that she was in no mental state to let such a thing happen.

Almost.

Good sense to stay away from him won over just as she was about to reach over and pull him close. She even thought she moved a fraction in his direction before swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat and averting her eyes once again to the journal in her hand.

"I should get back." She said.

The disappointment on his face was visible for a second before he started to stand up. She thanked him silently for his understanding.

"Yeah. It's late." He said offering his hand to help her up. "I should see if I can thaw Sam out before morning."

She smiled and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet and their eyes locked for another second in acknowledgment of the moment that had passed between them.

They walked back across the parking lot talking about the journal. He told her about a few specific things she should defiantly read and where to find them. She laughed at him when he yelped in pain after stepping on a rock. Telling him that that's what you got when you came out in bare feet.

They got to the staircase that led to the second floor, they paused and she thanked him again for the journal and waited for him to turn toward his room after saying goodnight, but he didn't take a single step.

She realized that he was waiting for her to climb the stairs and get into her room, which he could watch her do from the open balcony on the second floor. \

She moved to her room with half a smile on her face at his open gesture of unspoken attraction once again.

Dean walked back into his freezing room with a mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief because he knew now the bulk of why she had acted so funny earlier. Even though he felt like she'd left something out, he could tell she was genuine in her recount of feeling dirty and disgusted with herself at her ease into being a stripper. He didn't want to fully admit it, but part of his new calm was because she had looked him full in the eyes tonight with no problem. He knew that that was why he had ventured after her in the first place. Because he couldn't bare that she had shut him out and had to find out why. Well, now he knew and felt better for it.

The disappointment part was because she had almost responded to him. There had been a moment between them tonight that she had failed to take advantage of it. She had wanted to. He saw it in her eyes and also saw how hard she tried to deny it. He hadn't pushed it.

She had things to deal with, he knew. He didn't know the details but knew that she lost her sister to hunting and blamed herself for it. Blamed herself for it to the point she needed to turn every aspect of her life into mourning her in one way or another.

He understood. As someone who would die, or kill, for his family he had decided there under the tree to let her be. How long he could continue to do that, he wasn't sure. He wanted her more and more every day it seemed.

After turning the air down to a more tolerable level he lay in bed and was surprised when he felt his mind shutting down almost immediately to allow sleep to creep in.


	8. Chapter 8

The next night Rachel went to work with a her heart a little lighter and the stern notion in her head that no matter what she was NOT giving any lapdances tonight. As she approached the door of the club she noticed right away that something was wrong. One of the bouncers opened the door for her from the inside after unlocking it when he saw her approach.

Frowning at him, she asked why the club was closed at 10:00 PM on a Thursday. He said that he wasn't sure but that max had called a meeting in the back dressing room and that she should head back there. She quickened her step toward the back room with the hope that the Michelle's murder was now out of the bag and she could question the girls about it.

She walked into the dressing room to see Max standing with the majority of his strippers standing and seated around him. A few of them were crying softly into tissues and being comforted by others. She sulked into the room and sat next to Vivian O'Shea, who gave her a weak smile.

"Max closed the place for the night." Vivian whispered softly to Rachel. "Another girl that worked here was killed the other night."

Rachel put on her best shocked face and stared at Vivian.

"Oh God," Rachel whispered in mock horror. "Who?"

"Her name was Michelle. I didn't know her, she didn't work here long. But according to Max she was found the same way that Tara was, with her throat cut." Vivian informed her.

Before Rachel could reply, Max began to speak again.

"So under the light of all that's happened, the police have asked that I close the bar for tonight so that they can dig into Michelle's life a little deeper to see if there was a connection between Tara and Michelle besides the fact that they both worked here."

"What if the connection IS that they both worked here Max?" A woman with vibrant red hair asked. "What if we're all targeted because we work here? It could be one of our johns."

Rachel recognized the term "johns" right away. It was mostly used in prostitution as a refferal to one of their costomers. It struck Rachel as odd that this girl would use it for the people they danced for.

"We're trying to figure out just that, Shannon." Max said. "I want nothing more than to keep you all safe, that's why I'm going to cooperate with the police fully. We're not working tonight so I want you all to just go home and stay off the street. I promise I will call each of you tomorrow with news if I have it."

The genuine concern on his face strengthened Rachel's resolve that he was a good man. That he really cared about his girls.

The crowd broke with Max's exit from the dressing room. Girl's still wiped tears away and comforted eachother quietly.

Rachel was trying to decide her next step when Vivian stood up and stretched as if she had not a care in the world.

"Look's like we're going for that drink early tonight Rachel." She said.

Rachel looked up at her a little dumbfounded. "We're still going?" She asked.

"Of course we're still going. Why wouldn't we?" Vivian asked.

Rachel swallowed the bad taste in her mouth from her lack of care about the murdered girl and put on a false smile up at her. She couldn't miss this opportunity to interrogate.

"Your right," Rachel said. "I'll meet you outside. I just have to make a phone call."

"Sure. I'll gather up the rest of the girls." Vivian said and turned away.

Rachel hurried outside before Vivian and her crew could follow and hurriedly dialed Dean's number.

"What's wrong?" He answered. Not hello.

"Nothing's wrong, I just wanted to let you two know that the owner closed the club for the night because they all just found out about Michelle." Rachel said. "I'm going out with a few of the girls that I hope knew her."

"OK. Take notes." He said.

She hung up the phone just as Vivian walked out with three other girls.

"Rachel, these are our drinking buddies for tonight. Every one this is Rachel." Vivian said.

"Lisa Castagnini." Said a tall girl with hair as black and as long as Rachel's.

"Shannon McKee." Said the red head that had spoken to Max in the dressing room.

"MollyAnn Fitzpatrick." Said a blond with freckles across her nose.

"It's nice to meet you all." Rachel said with a smile.

"OK, now that we're all aquinted, let's go get that drink." Vivian said.

The five girls sat at a table in the same bar that Rachel and Dean had had their 'date' in two nights before. They were on their second round of drinks and the laughter had gotten loud enough that Rachel had decided they were fuzzed up enough to begin her questioning.

"What's the matter Rachel, you not having a good time?" MollyAnn asked.

Rachel realized she had been staring at the dance floor where she and Dean had dance the other night and was replaying how she had felt in his arms that night. She came back to reality woth a little shake of her head and realized that MollyAnn had just given her the perfect excuse to bring up the murdered girls.

"No. That's not it at all. I was just thinking about that poor girl Michelle."

The laughter calmed instantly and each of the girls took on a more serious air.

"Yeah. I know. It's terrible." Lisa said.

"Did any of you know her? Or Tara for that matter?" Rachel asked while taking another sip of her drink.

"Well, you know Tara and I lived together." Vivian said sadly.

"Oh that's right. I forgot you told me that." Rachel said even though she had done no such thing.

"Yeah. Tara was a sweet girl. She didn't deserve what she got." Shannon said looking down at the table. "Neither did Michelle."

"Oh give it up Shannon, don't pretend that your sorry she's not working at the club anymore. You we're about to go to Max about her anyway." Lisa said venmently.

Turning to Lisa, Shannon looked at her with wide, shocked eyes. "I'm not happy she's dead though Lee, c'mon!."

Rachel'd ears perked up. "Wait. What about Michelle?"

Silence then. the girls all bowed theie heads as if they had been caught in something they didn't want to reveal. Rachel's heart quickened at the fact that she might actually get some answers. It was Vivian who finally turned to Rachel to explain.

"Look. She was a nice girl and everything but none of the girls liked her much because...Well, because...-"

"Because she was stealing all the money to be made in the lapdance rooms." MollyAnn blurted out.

Rachel frowned at the hard acusation. Most of these girls seemed to get along just fine. every one of them had been very welcomming to her, to hear a blunt dislike for one of them said alot about Michelle she thought.

"She did a little more in the lapdance rooms that the club allows if you get my drift." MollyAnn finished.

"She was having sex in the rooms?" Rachel asked.

"That among other things." Vivian said. "So most of the Johns that would come in knew her reputation and would take her to the back. Now you know that being a stripper on payroll doesn't pay much. We make our money doing private dances and she would hog it all because she gave it up. She hardly did stage dances anymore because she was too busy in the back."

"Wow." Rachel said. Rally meaning it. She was shocked at how naieve she could be, it never occured to her that any of these girls would do such a thing.

"Yeah. 'Wow'." Shannon cut in. "A bunch of us confronted her about it but she was a nasty bitch. Max would fire her in an instant if he knew. He could get shut down for that."

"So you we're about to tell him?" Rachel asked.

"We told her if she didn't stop we were going to Max. She was dead the next day." Lisa finished.

"Where any of the girls angry enough about it to hurt her?" Rachel asked.

"No. We didn't like her but I don't think any of the girls would go that far. It would have been too easy just to get her fired." Vivian said.

"Did Tara do that too you think?" Rachel asked thinking that it was a possible connection between the two dead girls. The look of horror that the girls gave her flushed the thought out of her head immediatly.

"God no!" Vivian said. "Tara came from sexual abuse growing up. She was affraid to have sex of any kind."

"Really? Yet she was a stripper?" Rachel asked.

"She didn't see it as being the same thing." Vivian said. "No. Tara was a good girl. She'd never do anything like that."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Vivian. I know she was your friend." Rachel said.

"No offense sweetie." Vivian said. "Now. No more talk about this. We've got the night off and we're all still alive. We need another round."

Rachel left the bar and got back into her own car two hours later feeling like she had accomplished nothing. She knew a little more about Michelle's character and that most of the girls didn't like her. But she was almost positive that none of them would try to hurt her, or summon a spirit to get rid of the obvious competition that she was. Especially becuase they all insisted that they could have had Max all but throw her out on her ass if they spilled the beans about her extra activities.

What she had learned about Tara was nothing special either. The girl had been abused and didn't like having sex. That drowned the possible connection between them right there.

She had to figure out what it was that they shared besides the fact that they both stripped in the same place. If she could figure that out she was sure she could figure out what it was that made them a target.

_If there is anything else. _She thought to herself as she pulled into the parking lot. _Maby just working in the club is enough for the killer._

The idea didn't ring true to her. She trusted her instinct and held firm to the notion that it had to be something else. She just had to dig deeper. How she was supposed to do that she had no idea. And she knew that Sam and Dean where scratching their heads just as hard as she was in all this.

What she didn't know was that the link would fall in her lap very soon.

There was a knock at the door that made Dean jump little bit, pulling him out of the haze he'd been in as he cleaned his favorite gun at the table. Sam turned off the tv and got up to answer it.

"Hey Rach." He said as she moved into the room around him. Sam closed the door as she threw her bag on Dean's bed and flopped down on the mattress on her back letting out an exasperated breath.

"Nothing huh?" Dean asked as he took notice of her hair spread out on his pillow.

"More than nothing." She said looking up at the celling. "Is that possible? To come back with more than nothing?"

"That seems to be the aura of this case." Sam said sitting on the edge of the bed facing her.

She told them about Michelle's way of making herself a little extra cash in the back rooms and that Tara was the exact opposite of that. It was intesesting to hear and he could see why she was so exasperated. This case seemed to be getting the better of them at every point. They now had two dead bodies and nothing new to link them.

"So we just have to wait then." Dean said.

"Wait for what? Another girl to be murdered?" Rachel asked turning her head toward him.

"We can't stop it if we don't know what's going on." He said. Thinking that even another murder wouldn't do it if it hadn't just yet.

After staring at him for a moment she let out another frustrated breath.

"Your right. I'm just worried because that girl might be me." She said.

Anger spread in Dean's chest at her words. "Stop that. That's not going to happen."

"Yeah, Rachel. you really think we're going to let that happen?" Sam asked.

"Well, so far the only thing we have to go on is that the girls danced at that club. We can't track every one of them." She said and got up. "I'm going to take a bath. I'll see you guys in the morning. Maby the solution will come in our dreams."

She walked out of the room and Dean couldn't help but notice that he felt a little sorry to see her go. His mood seemed to lighten when he was around.


	9. Chapter 9

At the club that night things went as smoothly as Rachel could have hoped for. She did the stage dances with a comfortable detachment that made her feel much more in control and less of a heathen. She was able to manage that by avoiding eye contact with the patrons around her.

She was also able to smoothly avoid lap dances and pawn them off to other girls without too much scowling from Vivian, who seemed to come to the conclusion that Rachel was uncomfortable being one on one and left her alone for the most part.

In her various askings through out the night, she'd come to learn the name of the only friend Michelle had at the club. A girl named Naomi that was also working that night.

She took her break at the same time that Naomi did and followed her into the dressing room with hopes of making small talk.

As she walked down the corridor toward the dressing room she had just past Max's door when she heard it open behind her. She turned to see Max standing in the threshold holding a wicked curved scythe blade in his hand. Her heart took a leap in her chest and she held her breath.

"Hey Rachel." Max said with a smile.

"Hey." She said after a moments hesitation, not taking her eyes from the dangerously pointed tip of the blade.

Seeing her anxiety, Max looked down at his hand as if just remembering that her held the weapon.

"Oh. I was just coming back to ask the girls if I could borrow some Vaseline to polish the handle. I'm sorry if I scared you." He said.

"The girls are scared, Max." Rachel said. "It's not a good idea to play with your toys around them right now, especially if your toys are sharp." Rachel said.

"Your right. I wasn't thinking." He said with a sad look on his face.

Feeling bad, Rachel flashed a forgiving smile at him. "I'm going back there now. I'll bring you out some on my way back." She offered.

"Thanks Rachel. I appreciated that." He said with a smile of his own.

"No problem." She said.

"By the way," He said just as she was about to turn around. "Have you seen or heard from Molly?"

"No," Rachel said frowning. "She was supposed to be here tonight?"

"Yeah, like an hour ago. And she hasn't even called." Max said. "She does this a lot actually but with all that's happened lately... I'm sure you can see why not hearing from one of the girls would have me nervous."

"Of course, Max." Rachel said. "I'm sure she's fine but I'll ask around to see if anyone heard from her."

"Thanks Rachel." He said.

"I'll also bring you some At the club that night things went as smoothly as Rachel could have hoped for. She did the stage dances with a comfortable detachment that made her feel much more in control and less heathen. She was able to manage that by avoiding eye contact with the patrons around her.

She was also able to smoothly avoid lap dances and pawn them off to other girls without too much scowling from Vivian, who seemed to come to the conclusion that Rachel was uncomfortable being one on one and left her alone for the most part.

In her various askings through out the night, she'd come to learn the name of the only friend Michelle had at the club. A girl named Naomi that was also working that night.

She took her break at the same time that Naomi did and followed her into the dressing room with hopes of making small talk.

As she walked down the corridor toward the dressing room she had just past Max's door when she heard it open behind her. She turned to see Max standing in the threshold holding a wicked curved scythe blade in his hand. Her heart took a leap in her chest and she held her breath.

"Hey Rachel." Max said with a smile.

"Hey." She said after a moments hesitation, not taking her eyes from the dangerously pointed tip of the blade.

Seeing her anxiety, Max looked down at his hand as if just remembering that her held the weapon.

"Oh. I was just coming back to ask the girls if I could borrow some Vaseline to polish the handle. I'm sorry if I scared you." He said.

"The girls are scared, Max." Rachel said. "It's not a good idea to play with your toys around them right now, especially if your toys are sharp." Rachel said.

"Your right. I wasn't thinking." He said with a sad look on his face.

Feeling bad, Rachel flashed a forgiving smile at him. "I'm going back there now. I'll bring you out some on my way back." She offered.

"Thanks Rachel. I appreciated that." He said with a smile of his own.

"No problem." She said.

"By the way," He said just as she was about to turn around. "Have you seen or heard from Molly?"

"No," Rachel said frowning. "She was supposed to be here tonight?"

"Yeah, like an hour ago. And she hasn't even called." Max said. "She does this a lot actually but with all that's happened lately... I'm sure you can see why not hearing from one of the girls would have me nervous."

"Of course, Max." Rachel said. "I'm sure she's fine but I'll ask around to see if anyone heard from her."

"Thanks Rachel." He said.

"No problem. I'll also get you some Vaseline and bring it to you on my way back." She offered.

He agreed with another smile and closed the door. She started walking toward the back again, pulling her cell phone out. She didn't begin dialing right away because she noticed that one of the other girls she'd gone out for a drink with, Shannon, had just walked out of the dressing and was walking in the opposite directing. They said hello and Rachel began to dial as soon as the girl was out of earshot.

Sam picked up on the third ring.

"Sam. One of the girls that work here is missing. could you please find out where she lives and see if she's not dog meat?" Rachel asked.

"Sure can." Sam said. "What's her name?"

Rachel told him all the information she could remember, including Molly's description. She hung up the phone fully confidant that Sam could find her. So she turned back to the task at hand and went to find Naomi.

An hour later Rachel stepped off the stage from her last set tired and a little sweaty. The club was mostly empty by then as it was so near to closing time and she was glad. She was also tired and frustrated once more, having learned nothing from Naomi about Michelle, the thought of banging her head against a wall seemed like a good way to vent.

The dressing room was empty except for the girls that had just danced with her and they all sat around chatting for a few minuets before getting dressed. Rachel joined them because it was late and the last song had been a hard power ballad and she was exhausted at that point. Slowly thought, they dressed and one by one they left until it was just Rachel alone in the big dressing room.

She took her time getting out of her sequined bikini and stiletto's. She also combed her hair and washed the face full of make-up Vivian had helped her with. She was just pulling her shirt over her head when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in." She called.

Max stuck his head in the door and smiled at her.

"Oh Rachel. Your still here. I thought every one had gone." He said.

"I just need a few minuets. You leaving?" She asked sitting down to pull her boots on.

"Um Yeah. Unless you want me to wait for you?" He said.

"No, Max go ahead. I'll close up." She offered since he already had his car key's in his hand.

"You sure? All you have to do is turn the lock in the front door and pull it shut after you leave. The hall lights stay on." He said.

"It's no problem, Max. You go ahead, I'll only be another few minutes."

"OK Rachel. Good night." He said.

"Night, Max." She said as he closed the door.

Rachel finished dressing, glancing at the clock when she was done. 1:30 am on the dot. Wondering if Sam had found Molly, she pulled her phone out of her pocket as she turned the dressing room light off and shut the door behind her.

She started down the long corridor toward the front door dialing Sam's number as she went. She was about to press 'send' when she was suddenly enveloped in darkness.

She stopped in her tracks and raised her head. The hall had been lit by wall sconces and they had all turned out at exactly the same time. No light came from the front of the club into the corridor. She was in total blackness with the exception of the backlight from the phone in her hand.

What the Hell just happened? She thought a second before the chill crept over her. Rachel felt the prickling of her skin and she instantly knew that she wasn't alone. Hunter mode took over. She took a deep breath and felt the familiar instinct that she shared a space with something other worldly at that exact moment. She felt it even before she heard the thing call her name.

"Raaaaachellll" She heard softly in her ear. The voice was deep and male.

Terror would have filled another girl at that moment, but not Rachel. Her heart beat didn't even elevate much. She dealt with these things enough not to be afraid of them anymore. Her thoughts went to what she had to fight the thing off with. Her knife that was hidden in her boot and she had a small vial of salt in her pocket. But to know how to fight it she had to see what she was facing first.

"Your soooo beautiiiful my daaaarling." The thing whispered.

She pressed the 'send' button hoping Sam would come quick as backup, even though she couldn't speak to him at the moment while closing her hand around the vial in her pocket. Instead of putting the phone to her ear she used it's backlight, the only light she had, to guide her way as she turned around to face the thing.

"Who's there?" She called calmly as she adjusted her eyes to see where it was. If it was visible at all.

"Rachel? Hello?" Sam said into the phone after answering. It had just rung with Rachel's number but no one was on the other line. Sam looked over to Dean with a frown. They where headed back to the motel after giving up their stake out of Molly's apartment. She girl had been at home and didn't return all night.

"She's not answering." Sam said to his brother. Who was driving with one eye on the road and the other on Sam.

"Put it on speaker." Dean said.

Sam did and held the phone between them, listening to the silence on the other end.

She saw the evil bastard almost immediately. Dim in nothing but the glow from her phone and hardly more than an outline, but there it was. Standing next to the closed dressing room door.

She stopped. Her adrenaline kicking in and making her shake slightly.

"What do you want?" She asked loudly.

"Sooooo beautiiiiful." It answered. Her fist closed tightly around the salt.

She took a step toward it and felt the chill it emanated grow stronger. The bright backlight of the phone shed more illumination on it and she was able to make out more of what it looked like.

A man, taller than her. She moved closer.

"Who are you and what do you want with these girls?" She demanded.

Close enough now to see the face, she saw small beady eyes, dark hair slicked back from the forehead and a thin mustache. Skin pale and translucent, blotchy and puffy as only a dead things could be. She also saw the knife in it's hand. The salt gave her confidence.

"You going to answer me or what, asshole." She asked.

The thing lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck so violently she didn't have a second to react. Her heart pumped now in almost fright when she realized how real the hand around her throat felt. She yelled out as much as she could and smashed the vial of salt over it's head.

The thing howled violently and shock her before vanishing, knocking the phone out of her hand to the ground, she didn't realize that she was still connected to Sam's phone.

Dean heard everything from Rachel's question to the things reply to her. It was when he heard Rachel's yell that he swung the car into a hard right turn and floored the execrator in the direction of the club, hopping that that was where she still was.

Time to go. Rachel thought to herself as she closed her hand around the knife in her boot and reached for the phone on the ground. She didn't have what she needed to fight this thing right now. It's grip was so substantial and could cause her real harm she couldn't fight at the moment in almost total darkness.

Turning she realized her night vision had kicked in slightly. She was about to jet for the front door when when she felt a heavy weight tackle her from behind. The wind blew from her lungs as she crashed to the carpeting with the things weight on top of her.

Knowing she had only seconds, she twisted onto her back and quickly brought her arm up in an arch to imbed the knife in the thing, but it was quicker. It caught her arm in mid swing and forced it back down to the carpeting. Pinning it there.

She yelled again and went still as she felt the cold steel if it's knife press to her throat. She looked up and realized that she could make out the thing on top of her, several of the sconces seemed to have re-lit. She could see the damn thing above, it's disgusting face only inches from her own.

The black eyes where so lifeless she felt there chill invade her body, it's skin was spidered with black and red veins that laid out vile patterns it's pale skin was broken starkly by the pure black of it's hair and thin mustache. She was sickened by the sight of it all.

"Alll yoou whoooores are goooing too diiie." The thing said to her.

Trying to buy time she said the first thing that came to her head. "I thought you said that I was beautiful."

Hot pain made her scream as the thing sliced the tender flesh of her throat with the blade. It stopped after about an inch. A warning. She remained silent as she felt the blood trickle out onto her skin.

"RACHEL!!!" Dean yelled into the phone after hearing her scream. He held it with one hand as he steered with the other. They where 12 blocks away, red lights meant nothing. He silently prayed they wouldn't be too late.

Feeling the after effects of the blade opening her skin, she tighten her grip on the knife that she held. She wanted to push all 5 inches of the blade it into this son of a bitch so bad. She clenched her teeth in anger and exhaled a violent breath through flared nostrils.

It's hateful eyes glazed over as it looked down at her. "A beautiiiiful whooore." It said.

The best thing she could have hoped for happened next, The thing forgot itself or other wise didn't think her much of a threat because it pulled the knife away from her throat and released her arm. Straddling her completely it sat up over her and raised the knife, clenched in both hands, above it's head.

She knew she had only a second before the thing brought it down into her chest. she swung her arm in a violent arc off the floor while simultaneously twisting her wrist. She slammed the knife hilt deep into the things ribs. She was surprised when she actually felt the steel scrape bone as if the thing was real.

The knife still poised over it's head, she had the satisfaction of seeing the pure shock on the things face. It's eyes widened and it's jaw dropped. Then it disintegrated again. Just melted into nothingness once more.

Rachel didn't waste a sencond. she bolted up off the floor and ran for the front door. When she reached it she burst through it and right into Dean Winchesters chest. She stumbled back from the collision but he caught her upper arms just before she fell. She clutched him back.

"Rachel?" He said. His eyes where wild, his brow furrowed. She saw Sam behind him slightly, equally as concerned.

"It was inside." She gasped. "It tried to...It tried to..." Was all she could get out. Not because she was upset, but because the mad dash she'd made from the club left her breathless.

"Rachel, your bleeding!" Sam said. She let go of Dean and put her hand to her neck. Her fingers came away bloody.

"I'm OK, it's just a scratch." She said.

She looked behind Dean and saw the impala askew half on the side walk with about three feet of tire marks behind it. She realized that they must have dashed here and jumped out of the car the second it stopped. She remembered the call she'd connected to Sam just as the thing had first called her name. How much of what had happened had they heard?

"Is it still in there?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes from the blood still seeping out of her.

"I don't know. I didn't have much to fight it with so I just held it off long enough to get out of there." She answered.

"We should go back in after it." Sam said.

"NO!" Dean said to his brother harshly.

Rachel looked at him. They where here now and they now had access to two trunks filled with supernatural fighting equipment. They had to go back in.

"Dean. We know where this thing is right now. We're just going to let it get away?" She asked.

"This might be the only shot we have, Dean." Sam argued.

"Look at what it did to her, Sam. I don't want her going back in there." Dean said.

Anger spread in her belly. She didn't need protecting.

"Dean, I'm not really one of these girls who need to be protected." She said. "If I was I would be dead and gutted right now. I'm a hunter too, remember?"

He looked at her with a furious gaze.

"Your in such a hurry to have the rest of your throat slit?" He asked.

She walked right up into his face and looked him dead in the eye.

"Well, with a big strong man like you around now to protect me, that just won't happen will it?" She mocked. Stepping back from him she didn't take her eyes from his.

"C'mon Sam." She said. "Let's go get this son of a bitch."

Back in the hall, armed with a sawed off shot gun that shot rock salt, holy water and other things to possible destroy the thing, all 3 of them waited a full 5 minuets for it to show it's face again. It didn't.

Dean took out the EMF meter and began scanning the hall for signs of it. As he did Rachel saw her knife and cell phone where they had both fallen in the struggle. She bent and reclaimed them both.

"How'd you stop it with just that?" Sam asked, watching her slide the knife back into her boot.

"It's not an ordinary knife. I salt cure it about every 6 weeks or so." She explained.

"Salt cure." Dean asked with a frown from the dressing room door that he was scanning, where she'd first saw the thing. She was glad to see that he wasn't angry with her. She'd been harsh with him outside when he was just trying to watch out for her. She felt bad about it but more than that she was aware of the fact that he was so protective of her. She didn't like the fact that she liked the thought of it.

"Yeah. I pack it in about 2 lbs of rock salt and throw it in an open flame for about an hour." She explained. "The heat allows the metal to absorb some of the salt and it's properties. When it cools you basically have salty metal and a weapon against ghosts."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"And this works?" Sam asked.

"I stabbed it and it disintegrated like it would have if I'd shot it with salt." She said.

"There's nothing here." Dean called as he shut the meter. "It seems you and your salty knife did the trick. Wanna go and clean the gore off yourself now." He asked with a raised eyebrow in his usual smartass tone.

Looking down she saw that the neck of her shirt was coated in her blood. Maybe the wound was worst than she thought.

"Yeah OK. Let's go." She said.

As they left, the thought crossed her mind that she had fought the thing off and lived. She hoped that the thing wouldn't find an easier target tonight just because she was able to defend herself.


	10. Chapter 10

"Ow SAM!! That hurts!!," Rachel cried out as Sam dabbed the alcohol filled cotton swab on the wound in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. It's almost over OK." He said to her as he dabbed more gently.

Instantly she felt bad for her outburst and thought about what great bedside manner he had. They where back at the motel in the boy's room. Rachel was seated on one of the high stools with her neck arched back so that Sam could clean and dress the gash.

Dean barely glanced up from the computer screen he was studying. It was nearly 3 A.M. and they all knew that sleep was probably not going to happen anytime soon. On the car ride back, Sam had insisted that she ride with Dean and he drive her car back, she had told Dean every detail of what happened, from what the thing looked like to the description of the knife in it's hand. She didn't have to relay too much of the dialog it had had with her because Dean had heard most of it.

"So you said you got the feeling he wasn't from this time?" Dean asked.

Rachel had had time to think about it after it was over. Especially when she had been driving back with Dean, staring out the window and replaying the whole thing in her head. She couldn't remember what it was he was wearing, but she had the nagging feeling that it was an older style. Vintage was the word that came to mind. What strengthened that feeling even more, she was surprised to realize, was the air about the spirit.

Thinking back to him, she felt he was almost "Gentleman" like if you can call it that. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he had an air of sophistication and demeanor under the blotchy skin, spider veins, dead black eyes and the pure driven madness that made him try to shove a knife into her chest. 

"Yeah." She said from across the room as Sam began to close the wound with several butterfly bandages. She tried to be still and not flinch. "Kind of like he was nobility. Does that make any sense?"

"Nothing in the case has made sense so far, why should this be any different?" Dean said still looking at the screen. "I'm going to search the area for these kinds of killings for the past what? 100 years?" He asked looking over to her.

She tried to fight the tears that came to her eyes as Sam pushed together what seemed to be the worst part of the wound. It was through clenched teeth she answered Dean.

"200. Better to search too far rather than not far enough."

"You know, this really needed stitches, Rachel." Sam said looking up at her.

She looked down into his puppy dog eyes and saw how concerned he was for her. Her heart melted at that moment. He was trying so hard not to hurt her and his concern was genuine. She felt a pang of gratitude toward the younger Winchester and hoped that one day she'd be able to tell him how nice it felt to be cared about like this again.

Since Kelly's death she had tried so hard to distance herself from everything that felt good, but this felt OK. Sam's bedside manner was welcome and comforting in that it held nothing else but true friendship.

Dean was very protective of her as well but she dared not let his concern in. Unlike Sam, Dean was dangerous to what she needed to be right now, which was left alone.

"I know." She said to Sam. "But a little scar is the price I have to pay for not having questions asked at an emergency room."

So was the way of the hunter, she knew. And he did as well because he didn't say anything more about it.

Silence was the music for the next 15 minuets as Dean made any frustrated noises at the computer as he came up with dead end after dead end it seemed and Rachel tried very hard not to make any noise at all as Sam finished closing the gash as gently as possible and covered it with a square of gauze and tape.

The silence was only interrupted by Rachel's small little whimpers or sharp intakes of breath she couldn't control when a sharp sting ran through her as Sam worked. They sounds she made were always accompanied by Sam's apologetic frowns and his whispered "I'm sorry."'s or "It's almost over."'s

Besides that the police scanner set up on the dresser would sound periodically with a call for a domestic disturbance or a police car checking in with the station.

Dean finally let out an exasperated breath, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Nothing huh?" Sam asked as he handed a hand held mirror to Rachel so she could look at the bandage.

"No records of any crazy man from the past killing any one and removing insides, no records of women dying like they have been with no explanation, and no sign of our guy in any way, shape or form in this town or any where around it." Dean answered.

Rachel saw Sam's brow furrowed. He turned to look at her then.

"Rachel, when you say he was dressed old and you get a feeling of nobility, remember that most of Louisiana is rooted in French and African cultures. Does anything you sensed about him ring true with that?" He asked.

Rachel thought about his question and shook her head.

"No. Not really. Defiantly nothing African. Not a slave owner or anything." She frowned as she tried to listen to what her instincts told her, realizing she was the only one who had seen this bastard and lived to tell about it. "Maybe French, but that doesn't feel right either. I want to say not even southern." 

"Not from here you don't think?" Dean asked.

She inhaled a breath through her teeth and tried to think. Tried to relive the moments she was in his presence. Knowing that they key to stopping him was his identity.

"Displaced. Yeah, maybe." She answered squinting her eyes slightly.

Once again she saw Sam's brain go to work through his very expressive face.

"I have a feeling it's something were not going to find here. Maybe that's why we've run into all this trouble and haven't gotten anywhere." He turned to his brother. "Dean, look up the same thing from all around the country. Women dying like this and see if you find anything."

Sam sat next to Dean as he searched, looking over his shoulder and suggesting this periodically. Rachel all of a sudden realized how absolutely exhausted she was and lay down on Dean's bed. She made a promise only to close her eyes for a second as the boys looked for her attacker on the Internet. 

During that minute that she had her eyes closed, as she inhaled the slight trace of Dean's spicy after shave and the shampoo he used on his pillow that she broke her promise and dozed off.

She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep when she felt Sam shake her awake with urgency.

"Rachel wake up, we gotta go." He said.

She sat straight up to see Dean grabbing his keys and the police scanner which was crackling with voices.

"What happened?" She asked glancing at the clock. She'd only been asleep about 20 minutes.

"Call on the scanner." Dean said. "They just found another body."

Dean drove like a maniac toward the place the police where being called to. Rachel had a disgusted feeling in her chest that this murder was on her and that it was another girl from the club.

She asked the guys if they had found anything in their new search before she had fallen asleep. Sam answered her.

"No. Nothing so far. But I think I have an idea." Sam said. She was about to ask what when Dean announced that they where there. Not that he needed to, the empty street was filled with the flashing lights of police cruisers and the crackle of their radios.

No hiding the fact that something happened here. There we're people outside in curlers and nightgowns and robes. Some talking to the police, some just straining to have a look at the dead body lying under the white sheet on the ground.

The three hunters got out of the car and Immediately Rachel saw the same young cop she had been able to get some information out at Michelle's crime scene.

"I see my contact." She said and took a step toward him. Dean grabbed her arm.

"Think it's such a good idea to ask about a girl getting her throat slashed while you've got a bandage on your own? Might look funny." He said.

She realized he was absolutely right. She couldn't go there and talked to him because he might ask what happened to her. She had no problem lying, but she didn't like doing it to cops. They where too sharp.

"OK, you go. His name's Mike Reynolda." She said to him.

Dean walked away toward the cop as she and Sam began to walk toward the roped off place where the body was about to be photographed. Some cops tried to hold them back but Sam flashed his fake NYPD badge and they where let through.

Rachel stood holding her breath as the photographer pulled the sheet away from the girl lying on the floor in a pool of blood. They were only about five or six feet from where she had fallen and they could see everything under the dim street lamp that cast over her.

Slight figure, clear blue eyes wide open, long blond hair spotted with blood, Rachel could almost see the freckles on her nose.

She caught her breath. 

"Rachel?" Sam whispered to her, placing a hand on her elbow.

She did her best to recover herself and not show how shaken up she was. She was supposed to be a police officer who had no connection to these girls.

"Mollyann Fitzpatrick." She whispered to Sam. "The missing girl from the club you and Dean where looking for tonight."

"You sure?" He asked.

She stared at the girl with a pit in her stomach. Every time the photographer took a picture the flash illuminated her face perfectly for a split second and Rachel saw the girl she'd had drinks with in the bar the other night. Except then she'd been full of life and now she was lying on the ground with her blood everywhere. Rachel felt almost sick.

"I'm positive." She answered.

They heard a low yet shrill whistle behind them and turned to see Dean motioning them back toward the car.

The followed him and he confirmed that this was in fact Mollyann Fitzpatrick. Another dancer from the Diamond club.

"A lady who came out to get her cat found her about a half hour ago. They won't be able to tell yet but it seems she's been here about 3 hours." Dean informed them.

"Which means she was killed at about 1 AM." Rachel said.

He was about to comment when all of a sudden there was a flurry of activity. They looked around to see about half of the police scurrying to get to their cruisers, radios crackled and voices flew.

In the midst of it all Rachel heard a few key words that made her heart pump. "Another one," being the most prominent.

Dean pulled out his badge and caught a cop on her way past them.

"We just got a call to another scene." The cop informed them. "Looks like another girls been killed."

Dean got the address of the scene and they jumped into the car as quick as the cops did. 

Rachel once again felt as though she where going to be sick. Dean driving just as fast as the cops didn't help. She vaguely heard he and Sam talking about the low probability of this being another killing by their spirit. Sam didn't say much but she heard him disagreeing with his brother. Dean asked why he was so certain and she heard Sam's reply in the midst of her racing thoughts.

"If what's going on is what I think is going on, then this makes perfect sense." He said.

"You have an idea about what could be going on Sam?" Rachel asked from the back seat.

"I'm not sure yet." He said. "It's far fetched. Really far fetched. But if this is another of his killings I think I know what path we're going down."

"What is it. What do you think?" She asked vehemently. Needing to know if he had a clue that could stop this.

"We're here." Dean said. 

The jumped out of the car and hurried toward the spot deep in an ally behind a restaurant. The smell of garbage from the three dumpster's rotting in the Louisiana heat almost made Rachel halt her forward progress, but she didn't stop. It was with single mindedness and almost oblivion to the police around her congregating to the back of the alley that she move ahead. Needing to see if this was another girl she knew and failed to save.

She was almost unaware of Sam and Dean flashing their badges to be allowed toward the crime scene around her as she made out the dark figure on the floor. It was all she could see as she moved closer still.

Finally there she was. Standing over the figure at her feet. She crouched down and squinted her eyes. Some shined a flashlight down.

Dead eyes stared up at her. Red hair. Blood in it? She couldn't tell from the vivid shade. A flash in her mind of walking down the corridor at the club just tonight. A girl with red hair walking the opposite way and giving her a smile.

The face of the same girl standing looking scared in the dressing room as Max spoke to them all. Her arms crossed over her chest. What if the connection IS that they both worked here Max? She had asked. What if we're all targeted because we work here?

Shannon McKee. Another dancer at the club. She had seen her alive earlier this night and here she lay now, the light she'd seen the night they'd had drinks together gone from her eyes. 

Rachel reached out and touched her hand. She was still warm. She hadn't been dead long at all. Less than an hour and a half from what she could tell.

Infuriation struck Rachel hard in the chest with the realization that there was a very real possibility that this poor young girl lay here now in her place. The thing was obviously intent on killing two girls this night. Molly had been the first and she'd bet a few of her fingers that the police placed the time of death for Shannon at or around the same time she'd been attacked and got away.

He'd gone after her because Rachel had been too hard of prey. Shannon was easier and hadn't thrown salt at him.

The wound in her neck stung as she looked down and saw the gash across Shannon's own throat. Wider. Deeper. Fatal.

A wound that had been meant for her but had not been finished.

Rachel got up, barely away of Dean trying to pull her away because the police were trying to get in and she was in the way, and stormed out of the alley away from the garbage and the girl who'd been killed. 

The boys followed her and it was only when they were a good distance away from the police did she turned and speak to them. 

"Shannon McKee." She said trying to fight the overwhelming anger that threatened to consume her. "She was at the club with me tonight, left a little before I did. She was killed right after I got away. I know it."

She looked at Sam's face and saw the realization in his eyes. His brain was working, she knew it.

"You don't know that Rachel." Dean said. 

"Yeah I do." She said. "I was too hard for him so he went after her. I want to find this bastard NOW! I should have killed him tonight when I had the chance."

"Finding him is going to be a lot easier from now on I think." Sam said. 

She and Dean turned their full attention toward him at the same time.

"You know what's going on?" Dean asked him. 

"I think so." Sam said. "From everything Rachel said about what he looked and felt like, how the killing have been done so far, who these girls are, it all fits. How he got this far and why he's back now I just can't figure out."

That last sentence was said more to himself than to them as he shook his head and cast his eyes to the ground.

"What do you mean 'got this far'?" Dean asked.

Sam turned his attention back to them.

"We've been looking for these kinds of killing here. There's no way we could have found anything like what's going on here because this all very foreign."

"We've searched country wide, what are you talking about?" Dean said.

"We wouldn't have found it any where in the country. That's why we've been hitting wall after wall. We've been looking in the wrong place all along." Sam said.

"Sam enough." Rachel said, growing impatient. "What's going on?"

"We studied this in one of my classes At Stanford. We put him on trial actually. I was one of the prosecutors." Sam said, again more to himself. "These murders are famous. They happened centuries ago, they never found the killer even thought there were literally dozens of suspects. He killed and slaughtered 5 girls by slitting their throats and removing their reproductive organs. The time line that all of our girls have been killed fits perfectly, even these two. They called it 'The double event' when it first happened because they found two bodies that had been killed in the same night"

"Whose 'They" Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam took a deep breath and answered his question.

"Scotland Yard."

Rachel furrowed her brow. "Scotland Yard? the English police?"

"The English police of the 19th century to be exact." Sam replied looking at them in turn as if he where afraid of them not believing him.

"I know this sounds crazy." He continued. "But I'm almost completely certain that we're dealing with the spirit of Jack The Ripper." 


	11. Chapter 11

Rachel paced the floor in the motel room once again. Listening as Sam read from a website he'd found about Jack the Ripper, Still finding it hard to believe that he might be right.

Sam sat at the computer and Dean was seated behind him watching the screen. She looked over to them and saw the faint glow of sunrise starting in the window behind them. Dawn was breaking and it seemed so was this case.

"OK, here we go." Sam said when he found what he was looking for. Rachel sat on Deans bed, folding her legs Indian style under her and listened. "They were known as 'The Whitechaple Murders.' They took place from August to September, 1888 in Whitechaple London."

"Wow." Dean said with wide eyes. "I bet that's why they called them the 'Whitechaple Murders.'"

Sam threw him a dirty look but Rachel couldn't help but chuckle. It was so late it was early, none of them had slept and they had two more killings on their hands. The irritability had crept in long ago and it was time it was expressed a little.

Turning back to the screen, Sam continued.

"He killed 5 women, all known prostitutes. They where all found with their throats cuts and various parts of their reproductive organs surgically removed. The police at the time were convinced that the killer had medical knowledge because the job was done so cleanly, so to speak."

"Makes sense." Rachel said. "Our guy doesn't even leave a mark on the girls besides the throat wound."

"Well, actually," Sam continued. "Every girl but one that was found at the time was brutally mutilated."

"So our Jackie is flexing his supernatural muscles now that he's dead." Dean said. "He still does the job he did originally but since he can do it without opening them up, he does."

"I'm not so sure about that." Rachel chimed in, rubbing the bandage on her neck.

"That's easy." Dean said looking at her. "He still likes the sight of blood so he does that too because he still can."

"Any way." Sam said getting back to the screen. "like I said, the victims were all prostitutes. 5 were confirmed killings of the killer and there where a total to 6 others that might have and might not have been jacks killings."

"So how do we know that this is our killer, Sam?" Rachel asked. "It seems very unlikely that WE would stumble across Jack The Ripper more than a century after he's killed. And in AMERICA."

"Maybe not. Like I said, too much is simpatico with The Whitechaple Murders and what's going on here to ignore it." Sam said looking up at her.

"OK Sammy." Dean said raising from his chair. "Convince us."

Dean walked toward the door, passing her on the way. His knee brushed hers as he passed and she tried to ignore the flutter in her chest at the contact. She was glad when Sam started talking again and distracted her.

"Well, besides the fact that the WAY the murders are done are almost identical there's the time frame. Jacks murders match ours to the day."

Rachel saw Deans head turn toward Sam just before hers did. They stared at the younger Winchester in disbelief.

"You mean the dates match up with ours?" Rachel asked.

"No. His killings started in August 1888. Ours started on February 25th but the distance between them is perfect." Sam explained. "His first murder was a girl named Mary Ann Nichols on August 31st."

"Tara Davvies." Dean said.

"The next was on September 8th. A girl Named Annie Dougherty."

"Michelle O'Day was killed on the 5th. 8 day's later." Rachel said.

"The next 2 girls, Elizabeth Riley and Catherine Donnelly we're both found dead the same night in what the police called the 'Double Event' on September 12th." Sam said.

"4 day's later." Dean said looking at Rachel.

"Today's the 9th." She said.

"MollyAnne Fitzpatrick and Shannon McKee." Sam said completing the facts that tied the whole thing together.

Every one was silent as the information sunk in. There was no doubting that a connection existed, but where else did go besides time and method? Rachel was almost affriad to ask. Dean saved her the trouble.

"What we're his motives? Why kill prostitutes then and strippers now? Why is he after our girls?"

"Easy." Rachel answered. "Prostitutes, strippers. Both in the game of male pleasure. Only one thing distances what strippers do for money from what hookers do for money and it really is only one little tiny thing if you think about it."

"I can figure that out but what were his reasons then? How is that connected to the dancers?"

Sam studied the screen to find an answer to Dean's question.

"Well, there where rumors back then that who ever Jack really was was having a forbidden affair with one of the girls and she got pregnant. So to keep his nose clean he killed her and the four girls she let in on the secret. But that was just a theory not necessarily a motive." Sam explained.

"Where one of the girls really pregnant?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, But that's what could have fueled the rumor." Sam suggested. "Remember we're talking about Victorian London. Any unmarried woman who was pregnant was a scandal. Hooker or not."

"None of our girls where pregnant. We have all the coroners reports." Dean added.

"No. But Michelle was having sex in the back rooms." Rachel said. "Maybe any dirty little secret is enough for this spirit."

She glanced over to Dean to see what he thought of her theory and saw his handsome face twisted in a deep frown. One of his arms was crossed over his chest while the other was angled toward his face as his fingers played with his bottom lip. She couldn't help but notice how the action made the fabric of his cotton shirt at his shoulders strain slightly from the well toned muscle underneath or how full and sensual that bottom lip looked as he tugged at it gently. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to tug on that same lip between her own lips. She looked down at her lap when heat spread in her belly at the erotic image.

"Makes sense to me." She heard his deep voice say. "But here's the $64,000 question. If a hundred years have gone by and no one has I.D'd him. How do we and stop him?"

She looked up at Sam to avoid looking at Dean again and saw him give a frown on his own as he studied the laptop. She was glad that looking at at least one Winchester didn't stir up dirty thoughts.

"I'm not sure." Sam answered. "They had over 30 suspects from some homeless man that was in the vicinity to people like Queen Victoria's nephew and Lewis Carroll."

Now it was Rachel's turn to frown. "Lewis Carroll? The guy that wrote 'Alice In Wonderland'?"

"The very same." Sam confirmed.

"So once again." Dean said, sounding impatient. "He's supposed to be across an ocean. How do WE figure out who he was and stop him?"

Realization spread slowly over Sam's face as Rachel watched. She was surprised when his gaze turned to her.

"We have something no one else has ever had. That's how." Sam said staring directly into her eyes. "Someone whose seen his face and lived."

Silence spread across the room and both Sam and Dean looked at her. Sam was right, she had seen his face. She could Identify him if they could find a picture.

It was with something close to revolution that Rachel realized she was the key to unlocking a mystery no one had been able to figure out in over a century. A famous killer who was still killing in the same manor that made him a legend had made a fatal mistake; attacking a hunter who was able to get away. And Rachel was that hunter.

She should have been proud. Honored that because of her she and the Winchester brothers would be the only people in history to know the true identity of Jack The Ripper and stop him from killing. In the silence she thought of her sister Kelly, her father, both killed in this dangerous life they had chosen for them selves and felt the tiniest, unfamiliar sense justice for them. This was the moments hunters lived for, to make a difference and help people.

Tears stung her eyes as she thought about what she was about to do and vowed to do it in honor of them. She sucked them up before either of the boys could see.

"Find some pictures for Rachel to look at, Sammy." Dean said in just over a whisper. Rachel looked over to him and their eyes locked. In his hazel gaze she knew that he felt the same sense of importance in all this right at that second.

She held Dean's eyes as she heard Sam typing on the keyboard then his chair scrape across the floor as he got up.

"Here Rachel. Sit down." Sam said.

She looked over and saw him offering her the chair in front of the computer. She rose from Dean's bed and sat in Sam's chair, looking at the laptop screen. Sam crouched down next to her and Dean took up the space behind her to watch the screen.

"OK. I'm going to go through the pictures of the suspects one by one. Stop me when you think you see him." Sam said.

She was silent as Sam brought up the first picture. It was of an old man in a bowler hat.

"No." She said.

Sam clicked and another picture came up. This one was of a heavyset Victorian man in an apron.

"No." She said.

Ten more pictures came and went from the screen each followed by a 'No.' from her.

Then the screen filled with the image of an unsmiling man in his 30's dressed in a fine black coat with heavy gold embroider on the front and sleeves. His face was only facing the camera 3/4 but her heart froze in her chest when she saw the combed back hair and mustache. His eyes where just as beady and the lack of death's pallor and broken blood vessels in his skin didn't make him any more appealing that he had been when he had her pinned down on the floor with a knife to her throat.

Sam was about to click to the next picture when she didn't respond so she grabbed his wrist before he could.

"Wait." She said. "That's him."

Sam's hand fell away and the three hunters just looked at the screen in silence. She was sure of it. That was the spirit that attacked her in the hall of the Diamond Club earlier that night. The air of grandeur had followed him into death. He had obviously been rich in life because the photo exuded grander and snoopiness.

"Who was he Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam scrolled down the page and read out loud what she and Dean could clearly read on their own. She was glad for Sam's narration because she found it hard to look at anything on the page but her attacker.

"His name was Prince Albert Victor Christian Edward. Known as 'Eddy.'" Sam drew in a breath and all the information came to a head in his next sentence. "He was the son of Prince Albert...And Queen Victoria's grandson."

"How do you like that." Dean said quietly. "A killer with royal blood."

Once again Rachel was silent in respect of the fact that they had just made history in identifying Jack the Ripper. Forget that he was rich and important, they knew who he was.

"How do we stop him?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know how to stop him, but we know something else very important that could help us figure that out." Sam said.

Rachel rose from her chair. Not able to look at his horrible face on the screen another second. Sam took her place and typed something into the keyboard.

"I think I can follow your thought, Sammy." Dean said taking a few steps toward where she stood with her arms wrapped around herself as if to keep the chill in her bones at bay. The way he looked at her she could almost read his mind and knew that he wanted to wrap her in his arms to do the same. She almost wished he would do it.

Still not looking away from her, he spoke to Sam again.

"When was his next killing?" He asked.

Sam was quiet with his answer.

"Mary Jane Kelly was found in her room, the most slaughtered of them all, on the morning of the September 19th."

"A week." She said looking into Dean's eyes. He was less than 2 feet from her and could almost feel the heat from his boiling blood. "He's going to kill again in a week."

"No, he's not." Dean said. "I'm not going to let him touch you."

A spear of heat ran though her chest at his words. Evidently he realized what he said as well because he broke his eyes away from her and looked down at the floor.

"Or anyone else." He corrected.

She had all of a millisecond of time to think about his slip of the tongue before another thought occurred to her. One that demanded her attention fully. A theory that took shape as she remembered Sam naming the victims.

"Sam. What were the last names of the girls again? The ones that were killed in 1888."

Sam scrolled and typed.

"Nichols, Dougherty, Riley, Donnelly and Kelly." He answered.

Her brain worked. She felt the frown on her face as she realized a vital link.

"Davvies, O'Day, Fitzpatrick and McKee." She said. Dean looked back up at her with the same realization.

"Irish girls. He's after Irish girls." Dean said. "So we not only know when he's going to kill but we can narrow down the possible targets as well."

"Wait a minuet." Sam protested as he got up and walked toward them. "That was the population in the Whitechaple area at the time. We can't be sure that his specific targets where a specific nationality. We might leave out a lot of possible victims if we think like that. We go around protecting the Irish girls while the next one might be Italian?"

"OK. Let's say your right." Dean said turning to his brother. "Let's say that back then he killed Irish girls because there were nothing but Irish girls around. But don't you think it's a bit too big of a coincidence that from a large and diverse group of strippers he's only going after the Irish ones?"

"He's right Sam." Rachel said. "He's after a special group of girls. God knows why this time but their the ones we have to protect and I think I know how."

Both the brothers turned to look at her.

"As far as I know there are only two Irish girls left at the club." She explained. "One is named Vivian and I know how to get her fired so she'll be safe and Jack will go after the only other one left."

They looked at eachother in confusion before they looked back at her.

"Rachel. We can't go using an innocent girl as bait without her knowing a serial killer is coming after her." Sam argued.

"We're not using an innocent girl, Sam." She said. This time her eyes went to Dean. What she was going to say was going to draw an argument from him she knew. But it was their only chance to stop the spirit. "As a matter of fact she was already attacked by this bastard."

She fingered the bandage at her neck as she saw the realization spread in their eyes.

"Neither of you know my last name. It's O'Conner." She said. "I'm going to be his bait."


	12. Chapter 12

Dean turned the shower off and stepped out onto the thin floor mat, dripping. A million scenarios rushed through his head as he dried himself off with a towel, the main one was how not to use Rachel as bait for the spirit.

Jack The Fucking Ripper? He thought to himself, his brain still buzzing with all the information his brother had fed them less than an hour ago. As he pulled on his most comfortable jeans Rachel's voice swam in his head. Saying that she was going to be his bait.

He'd be damned if he let that happen. But he wasn't sure how to stop her She was a hunter in her own right, not his to protect and save. She'd remind him of that if he protested.

Why does this bother you so much? He asked himself as he pulled a light T-shirt over his head and caught his reflection in the mirror. It was a good plan, the only one that they had, but the thought of her in harms way like that didn't sit right with him.

His brain tired, he let go of all the thoughts that he had no answer to and walked out of the bathroom, more aware of his own exhaustion than at anytime before. He saw Rachel sitting at the laptop by the window glance up at him and bring her finger to her lips in a 'Shhh-ing' motion then point to Sam's bed.

He looked over to the bed closest to him and saw Sam laying on the mattress breathing the slow, even breath of sleep. His lips slightly parted and a flop of his brown hair covering one closed eye.

Dean envied him so much, at 7:30 am, it was now almost a full 24 hours since Dean had been awake. And that 24 hours was filled with mind draining events such as Rachel being attacked, finding 2 dead bodies and solving the century old question of who Jack The Ripper was. How he had not dropped to the floor cold yet was beyond him.

Crossing over to his own bed, he sat facing Rachel and immediately saw the bags under her own eyes telling of her own weariness.

"You should get some sleep." He whispered to her.

"Yeah, I know." She said in a whisper of her own. "I wish I had the strength for a shower too, but I'm afraid that I might collapse in the stall and drown in the spray."

They laughed quietly before she went on.

"I'm going upstairs in a sec, I just wanted to get another look at this guy." She said as she began to pull her long hair into her hands at the back of her head and pull a hair band over it to secure a pony tail.

Dean watched the simple act in fascination. Her fingers were long and elegant as they worked the black strands, her wrist delicate and slender as she slipped the band over her hand and manipulated it to secure her hair.

He found himself wondering if her would be able to feel her pulse if he brought that wrist to his mouth. How would her fingers tips taste against his tongue if he were to gently suck on each of them? Would she moan if he did those things? The image sent a shot through his belly and he felt his groin constrict pleasurably.

Then what she had said finally downed on him. She was going upstairs, by herself. Over his dead body with that crazy spirit after her.

"I think you should stay here." He said. "Separating isn't a good idea."

"I'm exhausted, Dean." She said. "I need to get some rest."

"He patted the bed under him. "You can lay here."

"No. That's your bed and you look like your a zombie as it is." She said. "You lay there, I'm going up to my room with 2 beds to choose from."

"Sorry Rach, Not a chance." He said boldly, locking eyes with her when she looked at him with slight shock. "I don't give a damn about him not killing for another week, he came after you once and there's no saying he's going to stick to his schedule, especially after you've pissed him off. We need to stick together and not give him another chance until we figure out what we're going to do."

"Dean, I get what your saying, but we need to sleep and there's just not enough room here." She argued. "That's your bed, I'm not taking it from you. And I'm not getting in bed with Sam no matter how cuddly he looks, I'm just not that kind of girl."

She smiled at him and he realized that she didn't even joke about maybe cuddling up next to him. She had no problem saying it about Sam but the thought was too awkward to say it about him. But then she took it to the next step.

"Unless YOU want to cuddle up with Sam." She said playfully with a smile.

Now Dean smiled and glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping brother, then back to Rachel.

"That looks cuddly to you?" He asked. "Because all I see is gangly arms and legs attached to a certified cover hog."

She laughed again and shut the computer.

"Listen, I agree with you but neither of us in any state to argue now. I'm going upstairs, we'll all get some rest then we'll figure out how we'll all bunk together. I'll be OK for a little while by myself." She said and stood up.

"Fine. Let's go." He said before he could stop himself as he rose to his feet as well.

He loved the wide-eyed expression as she looked up at him.

"You said so your self. There are 2 beds upstairs, one for each of us. We can figure out how to condense later after we've had some sleep." He said.

"So you won't leave me alone, but leaving Sam here by himself is OK?" She asked with a hint of a smile.

He found this the perfect opportunity to play with her.

"Sam is not an Irish stripper. He's an unlikely target." He answered then took notice of the tiny dot of blood leaking through her bandage. "That needs to be changed. C'mon."

She didn't protest any further, they walked to her room in the already blazing Louisiana sun in silence. As they walked up the flight to her room she took the lead and he allowed himself the pleasure of watching her beautifully shaped female bottom sway before his eyes with each step she took. He was disappointed when there where no more stairs to climb.

She let them into her room immediately shut the sunlight out by closing the blinds and the heavy drapes over the window. Dean went to one of the bed side lamps and turned it on, creating a soft glow in the dark room.

He watched as Rachel picked up several items of clothing from the foot of the bed closest to the window and head to the bathroom.

"I'll be right back." She called and disappeared into the bathroom.

Standing alone in her room Dean took a deep breath to calm himself. Now was not the time to turn on the charm and let her know how attracted her was to her just because they were alone in a bed room together. She'd been attacked tonight, they'd lost 2 girls and there case had come to a head. All that besides the fact that she was his partner was enough to tell him to take it easy.

To forget the fact that she boiled his blood and all he wanted to do was grab her by a handful of that beautiful hair, tug her head back and kiss her mouth until her lips swelled against his...He could handle that, right?

Rachel pulled the flannel pajama pants up her legs with her heart pounding in her chest. Letting him come to her room was a big mistake. She told herself to be angry at him when he decided she needed a body guard and tell him that she'd kept herself alive all this time without him and didn't need his help to do it this time, but the thought of him being near instead of her alone in her room clouded her judgment and she had kept her mouth shut and allowed him to flex his muscles and come with her.

God, what beautiful muscles they must be, too. She thought to herself as she began to take her bra off so she could put on her pj tank top, but then thought better of it. Yeah, have your nipples poking out at him. That'll give him the right idea.

She slipped the tank top over her bra and sat on the toilet to slip off her socks as the thought crossed her mind that maybe she wasn't strong enough to keep away from him. She'd already brought him here against her better judgment and knew it would only get worst as time went on. He wanted her, she wanted him. How much longer before she gave up and betrayed her sister's memory?

The sting in her throat brought her back o reality and she stood up to inspect it in the mirror. She saw the red soaking through the white bandage and touched it with her fingertips. which came away sticky. She opened the bathroom door.

"Dean?" She called.

"Yeah?" His deep voice called back to her.

"Would you please bring me the first-aid kit in the black knapsack on the table?" She asked.

She peeled the tape off her skin in the mirror as she heard him shuffling her things to get to the kit. She wiped away some of the leaking blood off the really good bandaging job Sam had done with some toilet paper while she prayed that she didn't have any tampons in that bag he was going through.

He appeared in the door way holding the first-aid kit and peered at the wound in the mirror with her, grimacing.

"Wow. You really did need stitches." He said.

"Yeah." She agreed. "But Sam did a good enough job closing it. So I get a little scar, big deal. Comes with the territory"

She saw his face harden and knew that he was thinking about how much he wanted to get even with old Jack for doing this to her. She had to admit that it felt nice to have someone so angry for her.

"Hand me the kit?" She said as she threw away the toilet paper.

"You won't be able to do that in the mirror. Sit, I'll take care of it." He said.

Knowing he was right and she wouldn't be able to do as good a job on herself she sat on the lid of the toilet and tried not to inhale his scent too deeply as he knelt on the floor in front of her.

She watched as he pulled out cotton balls and peroxide from the kit. Her heart hammered as he leaned in close to her to disinfect the wound. She arched her neck back and felt the soft brush of his fingertips against the sensitive skin of her throat. It took everything she had not to close her eyes and relish the feeling. She needed to do something to get her mind off the very intimate closeness and was about to open her mouth and speak when he beat her to it.

"So. What do you plan to about this Vivian chick you were talking about down stairs?" He asked.

She slanted her eyes to him as he continued to swab the cotton over the cut. Was he talking because he felt the same way?

"I'm going to tell Max she's having sex in the lapdance rooms." She said bluntly.

He threw away a bloody piece of cotton and soaked a new one, turning the corners of his mouth down he nodded. The action made his lips look pouty and kissable.

Get a grip, Rach. She commanded herself.

"That'll get her out of there." He said as he wiped more peroxide over her throat. "What if he doesn't believe you? She has been working for him longer than you have."

"Good point. That's why I was thinking you or Sam could be the guy that got a little extra from her." She said.

He laughed. "Could you imagine Sam trying to convince someone he had sex with a stripper?" He said then put on his best Sam impression. "'I...um...Yeah. I asked her and...um. Then she took her top off and we...um...she did this thing...I liked it...um."

She couldn't help but laugh. She could see poor innocent Sam stumbling on his words like that in such an awkward conversation. Dean laughed too.

"Ooh. Ouch!" She called as a sting went through her skin on her throat. Dean made an apologetic face and sucked in air through his teeth.

"Oh, sorry. Sorry." He said and swiped the cotton slower.

They were silent for a moment and she watched him finish cleaning the blood away. She watched his hazel eyes focus on the cut and couldn't help but wonder how those eyes would look smoky with heat. Her eyes traveled to the stubbly line of his jaw and wondered what it would feel like rasping against her cheek as he kissed her neck. He gaze went lower to the soft flesh of his own throat and the memory of her face being buried there as they danced in the bar came flooding back to her. He had smelled like aftershave. Very potent and male.

Taking in his whole face now as he began to bandage the wound she couldn't believe how handsome he was. His heavily lidded eyes and perfect straight nose, full mouth with the bottom lip just a bit pouty, strong jaw and cheek bones, sexy as all Hell smile. God what she wouldn't do to be able to kiss him just once.

"So what are we going to do?" He asked as he cut tape with his teeth.

"Well, we have to figure out what it is that keeps him here." She answered. Glad for the distraction.

"But that's the problem. The princes body is probably not here. It's probably buried in Buckingham Palace some where. How do we get to it?" He said.

"We don't." She said.

He looked up at her as he cut another piece of the tape.

"We don't?" He asked.

"It's obviously not his body that brought him here." She said. "We won't be able to destroy him, we just have to stop him."

"By figuring out what brought him here?" Dean said. "Sounds like you got it all covered. What the Hell are me and Sam doing here?"

"Don't say that." She said, hoping against her better judgment that he wasn't planning on leaving. "Sam's the one that figured out this whole thing, remember?"

"So then what they Hell am I doing here?" He asked as he began packing the first-aid kit.

She ran her fingers over the new bandage and felt the nice clean lines he'd managed. Looking him in the eyes she gave him her answer.

"Comic relief?" She said as she shrugged he shoulders.

"Bitch." He said.

"And proud of it." She answered back.

Silence then as they looked at eachother, the air thick with attraction and mutual resistance. He was too close, he looked at her too intently, she wanted him too bad.

"I'm gonna fall asleep right here." She said.

She looked away then as if he'd been in a trance and got up slowly.

"Yeah. Let's get some sleep. it's been a long day." He said as he offered her his hand.

She thought better of taking it for a moment but then did in order to not offend him...or let on how much he had her insides shaking at the moment.

She stood up and walked back out into the bed room. It was now slightly cool because he had turned the air up a little.

"That's my bed. You can have that one." She said as she went to the one closer to the window.

"Yeah. Mind if I put the TV on low?" He asked.

"No. Go right ahead." She answered as she pulled the covers back to get into her bed. Very thankful to him that he wasn't going to try anything. She didn't have know if she had the courage to resist. "I'm so tired I could sleep through a hurricane right now."

He fell onto the bed with the remote in his hands.

"Oh, you might wanna fix your bag first." He said motioning to her knapsack on the table. "I think I accidentally spilled out your tampons."

She felt the heat spread in her cheeks first and reminded herself not to let her eyes go wide as she hurried to the bag on the table. Looking inside she was horrified to se that he had indeed spilled out a whole box of SUPER HEAVY FLOW tampons into the bag.

She put them all back into the box as she reminded herself that it was nothing to be ashamed of. She was a girl and girls had to use those things. But she couldn't shake the very teenage feeling of mortification of a crush seeing something he shouldn't.

She finished putting the tampons away and crawled under the covers of her bed with a muffled goodnight. She peeked over at him and saw the him laying on the bed with his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, one arm behind his head, the remote in the other hand as he watched the soft glow from the TV.

He eyes began to close as she took notice of how long his legs seemed and how the T-shirt lay across his flat belly in the most maddeningly way. She tried not to think about that but instead focused on the fact that she was safe. Safe because he was here. She wasn't sure which thought was scarier. The fact that she wanted him or the fact that he made her feel comfortable and looked after. Both were lonely thoughts that she couldn't afford to think about. Because when this was over she would walk away again and she didn't need to miss any of it.

These where the last thoughts she had before she drifted off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

During the next week they did several things in preparation for the final meeting with Jack. The first was to research the fact that Prince Eddie was in fact buried in the hallowed halls of the royal palace in London. A quick phone call to Bobby, a friend of their fathers, opened the doors to possibly contacting a hunter or two in England who could help them, but that seemed a long shot since any English hunter they could get in touch with would be just as much a rogue as they were and most likely not in the area or position to help them.

Dean made the reference that made the most sense which was that he and Sam where from Kansas but if someone from London called and asked them to burn some bones there they wouldn't even know how to laugh hard enough since they hardly ever went back there. So trying to find what linked the spirit here took a back seat to making sure Vivian, the only other Irish girl left at the Diamond Club besides Rachel, was safe. The next part of the case came crashing down on them unexpectedly as the took care of that.

Dean insisted Rachel bunk with them so she wouldn't be left alone. Sam joined in on the petition so she had little choice but to agree. A phone call from Max told her that the club wouldn't be open for 3 days due to the killing of two of his girls so she had time to move her stuff in one hot afternoon. He also asked her if she was one of the girls who wanted to call it quits at the club after all that had happened.

She told him that she would be back to work in three days no matter what. He informed her that she was one of only 12 girls that decided to stay on. To her dismay he informed her that Vivian was of them. She didn't want to do what she had to do to keep the girl safe but if that's what had to be done then so be it.

Three days with Dean sharing the same room was a sort of torture. The three of them took turns sleeping on the thick sleeping bag she had on the floor. The first night Sam gave his bed up to her and slept on floor, which wasn't so bad. The next night it was Dean's turn and she slept in his bed, surrounded by his masculine scent on his pillow and the intimacy of her body stretched out in on his mattress was enough to plague her with erotic dreams of his hands and mouth all night. Which cured her of a fear that she would have the recurring nightmare of her sister drowning with them to witness her night terrors. The last night she slept on the sleeping bag and actually had a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Being in such close quarters with him during the day was heard enough though, several times she caught glimpses of him pulling a shirt over his head after a shower, or going down to an under shirt when they where just settling in for the night, hence glimpses of beautiful bare skin and toned biceps, or outlines of shoulder blades that made her imagine a well defined back that tapered down to a slim waist and a gorgeous butt.

She tried not to stare, but damn it was hard. If she had been a guy she would have been walking around with a constant hard on. Sam too was nothing to squawk at, she found that the younger Winchester had just as much a beautiful body as his brother, even more well defined actually, with harder planes and sharper angles from what she could tell. But Sam was not the problem. As much as she enjoyed the presence of both of the handsome brothers and their very sensual male bodies it was Dean that had her in a constant state of horny arousal. Sam was her friend and as beautiful as he was it was Dean that was more to her taste, in sex appeal and body. Sam was too sweet to think about like that.

She wondered at one point if Dean thought the same about her. She tried to be as discreet as possible and not be sexy at all around him but she was sure she had seen him staring just a bit too long when she was in her pajama bottoms that hung low on her hips with her tank top. She kept her bra on all the times to avoid giving him a peek at hard nipples or heavy breasts.

One such moment came while they where getting ready for bed and she was in such pajamas and tank top. Sam was in the shower, it was just her and Dean in the room. It was his turn to sleep on the sleeping bag so he. also in sleeping clothes of pajama bottoms, a white t-shirt and bare feet, was setting it up between the two twin beds, she had just climbed into his bed and was picking at a hang nail while watching the news when she heard him speak.

"When'd you get that?" He asked.

She looked up to see him staring at her chest right under her collar bone. She glanced down and saw what he was referring to which was the 1 inch star she had tattooed there.

"Oh this?" She said running her fingertips shape done in black ink. "Me and Kelly had the same one done about three years ago in LA it's actually a pentagram."

He squinted his eyes at it. At a glance it looked just to be an ordinary star in done in black ink with the points shaded just a bit at the tips and fading inward to her skin color. He sat on the bed facing her and leaned in for a closer look. She watched him and tried not to notice her heart beating a little faster at his proximity or his close inspection of her.

"Oh yeah. I see it now." He said noticing the very faint lines across the inside of the star that connected the points and made it not a star but an actual pentagram.

"Did you get that because of Justice Hannagan or just because you like looking like a pagan?" He asked leaning back and looking up into her eyes.

She smiled at him. A little surprised.

"You know the legend?" She asked.

"Sure do. First hunter ever made, told by Pagan witches about all things supernatural and how to hunt them after his family was murdered by Werewolves."

She nodded.

"They marked him with their symbol so other pagans around the world would know who he was and help him in his travels." She finished.

"You know part of that legends says that they MADE the first werewolves to kill his family so they would have a wounded soul to go after all the other nasty things out there?" He said.

"Part of that legend also says that the mark was protection against anything. Spells, rites, possession."

"So you never answered my question. Why did you get it and why not the full pentagram? Why hide it?" He asked.

"I got it because 1-" She counted her finger. "I think it's a cool legend about where our kind possibly came from. 2-"

She counted her next finger. "I think me and Kelly where trying to start a trend where all hunters get the same tattoo so that we can all recognize eachother." She said as they both began chuckling at the ridiculous idea. "And 3, I didn't get the full pentagram because people see it as demonic."

"Totally unrealistic. Not a sign of the Devil at all." He said with a shake of his head and a slight purse of his full lips that made her think again about kissing them.

"I know that. But the masses don't. I didn't think it was a good idea to call attention to myself by walking around with a 'Mark Of Satan' etched into my skin. So I hid it." She said making quotation marks with her fingers. "You or Sam got any?" She asked before she could stop herself. Hoping to maybe see some of his beautiful skin.

He shook his head. "Sam would cry too much and I didn't think messing with perfection was necessary." He said with a snooty lift of his chin.

She couldn't help but laugh. Or agree with him more.

"That your only one?" He asked.

She felt the urge to say no and not show him the other one but she felt his proximity in the form of slight prickling of her skin and a warm feeling in her stomach. Not unpleasant. In her other life before losing Kelly she had been a bit of a wild child. She'd had a healthy sexual appetite and took pride in being a cock tease. She knew that men loved her curves and long hair and loved to bat her eyelashes and sit just a little too close.

She hadn't felt that way in months. Grief had consumed almost every thought, even the ones that where about something else were always kissed by the little butterflies of what had happened and that she was now alone. Always just behind her awareness. She'd never felt the need to be that girl again.

Until right now. Sitting here facing Dean Winchester. She felt a little naughty and just couldn't resist.

"Yeah. I got one more but it's just a regualr tattoo. Something I saw and wanted. But it's kinda low, not sure if I should show you." She said and then waited for him to ask.

The hot silence between them was thick. As was his hazel gaze on her. The obvious flirtation now was something she knew he wouldn't back away from and that sudden thought sent a slight pang of Dred through her. Why was she doing this? Was she crazy? She couldn't go through with this so way start? What if she couldn't stop herself? The running of the water in the bathroom reminded her that Sam was there too. So nothing she did now would go very far anyway. She felt a little better at the thought.

"Show me." He said. His voice just a little deeper than usual.

The wash of heat that shot through her made her nipples begin to harden. His voice saying something so intimate to her, as if it was a challenge was maddening. As she stared back at him she imagined what his hands and mouth could do if his voice and eyes could have such an effect on her.

Not about to back down, and slightly enjoying their little game, she got to her knees on the bed, he looked up at her and she looked down at him, her hair falling over her shoulder in a shiny black wave, she only broke eye contact when she turned around to face the wall behind her, still kneeling on the bed.

She reached across the nape of her neck and pulled the rest of her hair over her shoulder so that it wouldn't fall down her back anymore, then raised the back of her shirt just a bit as she pulled down the waist of her pajama pants in inch or so to reveal tribal Indian scroll work tattooed in black just below the small of her back and fanning out toward her hips.

She heard the soft intake of his breath and smiled to herself as she pictured in her mind the sight of the thin black lines etched into her smooth skin and accenting the flare of her hips and narrowness of her back.

"Wow." He said.

She smiled to herself.

"We got drunk one night and each picked out a tattoo for the other. She picked this one out for me and I picked out a purple butterfly for the back of her shoulder." She said recalling the memory of how much her little sister had loved the tiny little winged thing she'd picked out.

"It's beautiful." She heard him say but then he did something she didn't expect.

She felt the lightest brush of his fingertips across her skin against the ink. Her whole body stiffened and her heart began to pound. His touch was not unwelcome, but very unexpected. She relaxed and tried to think of her next move. She'd been out of the game for a long time, what had she been thinking about to start playing with Dean?

"Very sexy." He almost whispered as his fingers moved with a little more pressure, making her skin react with goosebumps.

Did she really think she could do this? He was a master at this game. Not intimidated by her at all, he'd extended her challenge.

"Thank you." She said back more huskily than she'd intended and closed her eyes to enjoy his touch for just a micro second longer before pulling her shirt down.

She turned back around and sat again facing him, pushing her hair back over her shoulder to fall behind her once again.

"Kelly had great taste." She said because it was the only thing she could think of.

They were silent for a second before she saw him give the tiniest smile. Just a slight upturn of one corner of his mouth accompanied by the slightest rise in one of his eyebrows. A mini version of his trade mark smirk which still held the same mind numbing sexiness of the full version.

"What?" She asked with a smile of her own.

"Are you TRYING to make me crazy or what?" He asked.

Stunned by the bluntness of his question, she felt her eyes widen a bit and her heart pick up just a little more speed. Those nine words spoken with such blaten meaning put it all on the table. Finally put into words the awkwardness they'd tiptoed around since the last job, which was that they were attracted to eachother. Looking at him with his intense gaze locked on her and his blazing question still ringing in her ears she decided not to play dumb. Her answer wasn't much of an answer as much as it was a plea.

"Don't." She said with a small head shake.

Her tone asking for mercy more than giving a warning. Asking him to please not make her admit it. To please just let this all go unsaid as it had thus far until she could get away from him.

"No. Seriously." He went on showing her not a bit of the mercy she asked for. "You show me tattoo's-"

"You asked."

"We sit under trees in the middle of the night-"

"YOU followed ME."

"You slow dance with me-"

"YOU made me." She said, trying to stop his blunt assault by pointing out his role in it all. "You said that you weren't going to let me make you the biggest looser in the bar next to the guy in the hat. Remember?"

She could just slap the cocky look right off his face. She was uncomfortable and he was enjoying it. Or was it something else? She thought as they sat in silence again for another agonizing second before he gave a slight shrug, nodded his head and turned his gaze down to his fingers interlaced in his lap.

"Your right." He said. But when he looked back up at her his expression had changed. His eyes turned into hot missiles that shot through her with the sexiest hazel intensity.

"So I guess the real question is am I trying to make you crazy?" He said with another slight raise of his eyebrow.

BASTARD. She thought as soon as she had taken in his question.

Fighting the urge to look away from him, she didn't answer but held his gaze. The excitement grew inside her to maddening heights. It was a long time since she had played like this with a guy. Or been played with the way he was playing with her. Yet she sensed it was more than a game. He wanted her. She wanted him. This was all that coming to a head of sorts.

"Is it working?" He asked when she remained silent.

Once again she held her tongue. What could she say? She didn't want to lead him on and let him think that she was emotionally available for this right now. She wasn't. She was way too fucked up in her head to consider it. Yet she couldn't help the fact that she was very attracted to him. In the end, her common sense won out and she took the safe road.

"No." She said. Hoping to shut him down with that one word and be done with it. But once again, Dean Winchester was not to be underestimated. A fact she fully understood with his one word response.

"Liar."

He almost whispered the word, calling her bluff with heat and intensity and desire shining in his eyes. She held his gaze and wondered if she stood a chance.

Sam saved her at that moment by walking into the room fully dressed for bed and running a towel through his damp hair. She looked away from Dean at the same time he looked away from her. She silently thanked Sam for his presence and cursed him for not being done sooner.

She looked to see his step falter at the sight of them sitting together face to face on the bed. His brow furrowing slightly. Then Dean opened his mouth before Sam could ask if he had interrupted something.

"Thank God, Sam!" Dean said dramatically as he stood. "I thought you had drowned in there!"

With that Dean went back to making his bed on the floor.

"Um...No." Sam said trying not be awkward. But clearly realizing that he had walked into a private moment between the two of them. "No drowning. The water just felt really good is all."

With that Sam sat on his bed and continued to dry his floppy brown hair.

She settled back into bed and tried to avoid Deans eyes. But at the last second before he laid down on the sleeping bag she caught his glance and locked with it knowingly for a second. The look said that the conversation wasn't finished, just delayed.

She turned her back to him and faced the window as Sam turned out the lights for the night, his hot gaze still fresh in her mind as she drifted to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Rachel returned to work the next night to the strip club version of a ghost town. She was one of only 9 girls to show up and it broke her heart to see the look on Max's face.

"Maybe I should just shut it down already." He said as he paced back and forth in his office while she stood there trying to execute the next step in there plan. The one that would keep the only other girl that was in the Jack's sights safe.

"I mean. Who ever this guy is he's killing all my girls and I'm not sure he'll stop. The police haven't done anything.

"They're trying Max. And you can't be sure that it's only the girls here." She offered as she leaned back in the comfortable leather arm chair in front of his desk.

"Come on Rachel. It's obvious. Four girls already. All my girls. I just wish I could do something. Maybe closing up shop will stop it all." Max said in frustration.

"And what makes you think that closing will stop it? You can't be sure that will do any good and we all need a place to work. The girls that are loyal to you and your business are here, that's got to mean something." She said but moment by moment she saw his anxiety growing.

"I just don't know what to do any more. At this point I'm just glad that I'm not a suspect." He said as he took a seat behind his desk facing her.

"Of course your not a suspect. You where here when most of all this was happening. I told the police that myself. They have no reason to look at you." She told him.

He let out a breath and slumped in his chair. "I just don't want any of you to be hurt anymore. Most of the girls where just kids. I know that I don't run the most moral of places, but I feel a responsibility to all of you. That's why I never fought to have the place zoned to be topless or all-nude except in the back rooms, I don't want to have a sleazy joint or anything. just a respectable gentleman's club and make a living. Most of the girls in this industry are just trying to make their way through school or are troubled girls who don't know how to do anything else but dance. I've let anyone whose doing the wrong thing go without thinking twice about it. Drugs, alcoholism, anything like that that and your out the door. I don't want that kind of thing to spoil the rest of my girls who're probably having a hard time enough already."

Rachel looked at the young, handsome man and was once again in awe of how different he was than most others in his line of work. A strip club owner with morals and a sense of responsibility to his work force who where fragile in a world where people of his kind took advantage of their youth and venerability. She was stabbed by anger at the spirit that had chosen this upstanding jewel in the rough to feed upon instead of one of the jerk-offs that ran this industry.

Looking at Max's pained face with bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, hair and suit slightly disheveled most likely from lack of concentration to groom himself in the swamp of jumbled thought that probably ran through his head, she vowed once again to destroy this spirit and leave Max in peace to do his quiet work and lead a normal life.

Another stab of pain went through her as she realized that she was about to add to his worries falsely in order to do that job.

"Max that reminds me. I need to talk to you about something very serious." She began. "I don't mean to give you more on you plate right now but there's something you need to know about Vivian."

She recounted her lie to him about hearing Vivian relay the tale of how she had scored a large sum from a guy in the back room for oral sex. Remembering to keep the details scarce and simple in order to keep it up. She saw him frown and listen intently.

"I know I haven't been here long and you probably have no reason to believe me. But I swear she told me and even tried to tell me that I could do it easily. She's trying to turn your place here into a brothel and I know that's not what you need."

"Vivian?" He said another frown. "I'm actually not surprised."

Now it was Rachel's turn to be taken aback. "You know?"

"I had an idea." He said. "She's very popular here and gets requested a lot. I had my suspicions."

Rachel couldn't believe her luck. He suspected her and she had just confirmed it for him. Whether it was the truth or not she couldn't say because she had had no such conversation with the girl, but his feeling about her had just made her lie believable and had closed the deal on the girl.

"Well, she can't stay here." Max said. "I'm not going to have that kind of thing going on in my club. I'm in trouble enough here and I'm not going to let Vivian make it worst. I've got to go talk to her."

He stood and so did she.

"Max I'm sorry." She said in Ernest.

"No, Rachel, don't apologize." He said. "Thank you for telling me. I need to know this. I'm not going to say that you said anything, but I need to confront her about it."

"I understand. And thank you for keeping me anonymous. I have a feeling she could kick my ass in a heart beat."

That got a smile from him and she was glad to see it.

"Please excuse me, Rachel. I don't want this to go on any longer than it has to. I'm going to take care of it right away."

"Go ahead. I've got to go get dressed anyway." She said.

He walked out of the door and she was left standing in his office alone. She let out an exasperated breath and shook her head at the craziness of it all. Not only at what she had just done, accuse an innocent girl of immorality, but also at the whole jumbled mess of this case.

She was facing Jack The Ripper and the time for his next strike was three days away. She had three days to become his sole target and figure out how to stop him. Sam was busy at the motel trying to find out why he was here and what they could do to end this hunt and as far as she could tell Dean's role in all this besides his brains and brutality as a hunter was to torture her with his smile and wit and just over all sexiness.

She sat back down in the chair facing Max's desk and went over their conversation the night before. Him asking her if his presence was getting to her and her denial of it. He'd called her a liar right to her face and she was mortified now in the light of day that she hadn't denied it more vehemently. He knew how to get to her and it crossed her mind that maybe she wanted him to catch on to it. Maybe she was sabotaging herself on purpose to Dean Winchester.

She rubbed her temples as the thoughts shifted in her brain and slumped back down into the large leather chair to just rein in her frazzled brain for a moment. In order to distract herself she took in the sights around Max's office again. Always amazed at how many treasures he chose to keep on hand.

Most of the guns and knives where encased in glass on the walls and as she looked them over she wondered if hunters had used any of them. Max had said once that they where mainly from war periods but she wondered how many where used in the wars that most of humanity had no idea was going on. The kind that she and the Winchesters where soldiers in. The secret war currently going on right under his nose.

It was during these thoughts that Rachel first noticed the knife.

Hanging right over the fish tank behind Max's desk she looked at it and frowned. It was 7 inches long from tip to butt, curved like a chefs knife and maybe 3 inches at widest point just before the blade disappeared into the tang which was encased in the dark brown wood handle.

Her heart began to pound and she held her breath as she sat up slowly from the chair. She had seen that blade before. Even as she tried to tell herself that she was crazy and there was no way, she knew. The last time she had seen that blade it was clutched in the hand of a ghost. She could see it all in her mind again. The aged brown wood, slightly splintering, the steel blade which was no longer shiny but still wickedly sharp.

Slicing into the tender flesh of her throat as she screamed. Poised above her by pasty dead hands, ready to be plunged into her heart.

This one belonged to an English prince...Max's voice echoed in her head from the first time she'd been in this office and had noticed his impressive collection.

She remembered to breath as she took the few steps around the desk to stand face to face with the thing once more. Close enough that her breath fogged the glass slightly, she peered in and saw the last confirmation she needed.

Blood.

Two tiny dried drips on the inside of the glass. So small only the closest inspection would find them. But blood nonetheless. More of it on the edge of the blade. The part that cuts. Small specs of dried brown that could easily be mistaken for rust at a quick glance.

She wondered if it was from the last victim. Or maybe it was her own.

Not able to turn her head from the weapon she fished her phone out of her back pocket and dialed with just her fingers. Bringing the phone to her ear she heard it ring twice before the deep voice answered with a monotone 'hello.'

"Sam. It's me." She said. "I found it."


	15. Chapter 15

After dressing, Rachel decided to see if she could find Max and ask some questions about that knife. The one that she was almost sure belong to Jack now. The first question in particular would be which English prince had owed it, and what else of his did Max have that she could salt and burn. She'd leave the last part out though.

After relaying what she had found to Sam over speaker so that Dean could hear too, it was Dean's suggestion that she find out as much as she could about the knife, even to the point that Max would get suspicious. It was all or nothing at this point. Rachel felt like it was more than that. He'd know that she was coming in to get Vivian fired tonight and make herself the only target for Jack in the club, Dean wanted all guns drawn, fingers cocked on the triggers to keep her safe.

On the main floor in her waitress mini skirt, midriff baring T-shirt and high heels she headed towards Max's office again. In doing so she passed a table of three men in suits who whistled softly as she walked by, she turned and smiled at them, making eye-contact with the best looking one. Glad that she had abandoned Vivian's way of doing her hair big and piling on the make-up for her simpler, cleaner look of her hair down with one side held up in a small rhinestone clip and just some eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss.

Turning her attention back to finding Max she neared the slightly ajar door of his office and slowed her pace when she heard raised voices, then literally crept closer when she realized that one of them was Vivian's and she did not sound happy.

"I don't understand Max! I want to know who told you all this." Vivian said.

Rachel flatted her back against the wall next to the door jab and stretched her ears to listen, wondering how much she had missed already.

"You think I need someone to tell me anything Vivian? It's obvious." Max shot back at the angry woman and Rachel felt a pang of regret shoot through her. Vivian had been nice to her and in a lot of ways helped break her in, now she was being accused of being what equaled to a hooker because of Rachel.

Better that than dead, Rach. Rachel thought to herself as she listened to Vivian defend herself and try to keep her job while Max kept insisting that he knew what was going on. Some times an innocent had to be hurt to be kept safe. Rachel hated that part of her job, but then an image of Vivian with her throat cut, eyes staring blankly filled her head and she didn't feel so bad anymore.

"I want to know who told you these things Max!! I've worked for you for three years I deserve to know why I'm being lied about and fired." Vivian demanded.

"You want to know who told me Viv? Do you really want to know?" Max all but yelled back.

They were both silent and Rachel felt a lump in her throat waiting for him to answer. She may have stabbed the girl in the back but she didn't want her to know about it. Especially because her lie would then be exposed and Max could just fire her and keep Vivian. Which would be disastrous.

"One of your 'CLIENTS' told me Vivian." Max blurted the lie out with vehemence. Rachel was so taken aback she actually flinched. "Officer something or another from the next county. Told me he enjoyed himself but that I'd better put a leash on you before you got me into trouble. That's who told me Vivian."

Silence then.

Rachel held her breath and waited for Vivian to call him a liar. That no one could have said such things to him because she'd never done anything of the sort and that she demeaned to know who it really was. What came out of Vivian's mouth next was so unexpected it made Rachel's jaw drop.

"Well, what do you expect me to do Max? I have to earn a living." She said in a quieter voice. "We can't give them what they want to the floor because we have to keep most of our clothes on because you refuse to get the license to go topless or nude. What do you think these guys want in the back rooms? Conversation?"

"Get out." She heard Max say. She couldn't imagine the betrayal he must have felt at that moment. She also couldn't believe that Max's bluff had paid off that way.

"Max think about this." Vivian said.

"I said get out. Your fired." Max said just as calmly although Rachel could hear the anger quivering in his voice.

"Max do you realize how much money I could make you? You don't understand the potential here." Vivian argued.

"No, VIVIAN!! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Max shrieked. Making Rachel jump. "My girls are dying left and right! I'm trying to run a respectable gentleman's club and I'm not going to let you turn it into a fucking whore house!! Now get out!!"

Silence again. Rachel knew that Vivian would leave the office soon so she shrank back into the alcove out of sight.

"Fine Max." She said. "Have it your way."

A second later Vivian emerged from the office and headed in the other direction toward the dressing room. Rachel thought for a moment about going into Max's office to inquire about the knife like she had been originally trying to do but thought better of it. Better to leave Max alone right now after the blow out she had just overheard, he wouldn't be in the mood to talk and she had all night to get her answers.

Instead she turned back toward the front of the club to see if the table of guys she'd passed on the way needed a drink, feeling terrible for Max but not guilty for what she'd done to Vivian in the least anymore. It dawned on her just then that no matter what the girl had done, she was safe now. No longer in the category to be Jack's victim. Which made herself the only target.

Dean listened intently to Rachel later that night in the motel room and smiled when she finished recounting the successful termination of Vivian.

"That little hoochie mama." He said with a smile.

"I know. I can't believe it worked out that way. It was perfect." She said hoping up on one of the dressers on the opposite side of the room.

"So what about the knife?" Sam asked from his reclining position at the table in front of the computer.

Dean listened to her tell Sam about her conversation with Max later that night about the blade, which turned out to be the only thing that he owned of Prince Eddies, how he had acquired it and how long he'd had it. As she did Sam began his research of it on the Internet, asking her question to map his search.

Dean watched her as she spoke to his brother. Watched her kick her flip flops off her cute manicured toes, which he knew she had only gotten done for the job, nail polish wasn't her thing, and cross her long, Jean clad legs under her Indian style. Watched as she absent mindedly reached up into her hair to loosen the small rhinestone clip that held one side up away from her face. She pulled it out and shook her hand through the soft black mass.

The faintest whiff of peaches reached his nose when she did. Dean knew it was her shampoo because the bottle had graced the bathroom since she's been bunking with them. Instantly the aroma gave him the urge to burying his nose into that soft blackness and take in a sweet lungfull of the scent.

Dean wondered why he'd thought that. It wasn't long ago that instead of thinking that about her hair in the sweet way he just had, he would have instead thought about wrapping that hair in his fist while he kissed her mouth harshly.

"He said it came from an antique store in Texas?" Sam asked her, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

"Yeah." She answered. "It was called 'Oldie's but Goodie's' if you can believe the tackiness. He said it was in San Antonio."

"Did he give you a date? When he got it?" Sam asked as he typed and frowned.

"He said about a year ago. Nothing specific though." She answered.

"You find something good geek boy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah actually." Sam answered. "The address for the antique store is in a county called Kingsford. When I look up the obits there are five murdered girls all under 26. Two who where known prostitutes. And..." He typed and scanned and frowned some more. "And the spacing in the dates match up."

"Let me guess, all before the knife came here?" Dean asked.

"And all Irish last names?" Rachel added.

"Yes, to the first, these obits and news clippings are all over a year and a half old and no to the second." Sam answered.

"No? They weren't all Irish girls?" Rachel asked with wide eyes.

"Only three had Irish last names. The other two where married but I bet if I dug a little deeper I would find that they were."

"Well, then that kinda seals it huh?" Rachel said. "It's happened before and I bet it's been happening where ever that knife has gone for the last century. We're right about the time line. He's gonna hit again in the next 40 hours or so and we know who he's coming after. We can stop him this time."

"Bull shit." Dean said standing up. "Let get our stuff together, get into the club and salt and burn the damn knife right now, we don't need to wait for him to make another move."

Rachel looked at him with her beautiful green eyes and shook her head.

"Not going to work that way. We have to wait for him to have the knife in his possession before we do anything. Which means waiting for him to come after me before we attack."

Dean's stomach fluttered with nerves. She had a death wish and he was not going to let her wait until the last second and she had the blade half way into her throat again before they wasted this thing.

"What are you talking about. Of course it'll work. We get rid of what holds him here. That's how you destroy spirits." He argued.

"No, it won't, Dean. Not with this kind of spirit. You know this already." She said.

"Why not Rachel? That's how we've always done it." Sam said.

"Wow." She said looking back and forth between the two of them and hopping down from the dresser. "Don't you two read your fathers journal at all?"

She fished the journal out of the draw she'd kicked Sam out of for her jeans and pulled out the leather-bound book which she opened and flipped through till she found what she needed.

"Right here." She said handing the open book to Dean. "You father hunted an angry spirit just like this one about 10 years ago. One that was powerful enough to take a victims eyes and another heart right through the flesh. He thought he destroyed it by salting and burning the hook it used to murder people when it was alive since the body had been cremated. 5 years went by when he came across THE EXACT SAME SPIRIT DOING THE EXACT SAME THING IN THE EXACT SAME TOWN using another hook. His theory was that something that can manifest like that could only be destroyed when they did just that: Manifest. Which means we're not going to get Jack until he has the knife in his hand."

Dean studied his fathers handwriting in the slightly age yellowed pages with Sam looking over his shoulder. The account was just as she said. His father thought that when there was nothing else holding a soul here, the instrument of their hate could substitute, so with nothing to destroy, the spirit itself had to be destroyed.

"Jack is basically smoke until he holds that knife." Rachel said when he looked back up at her. "We destroy the knife the smoke sticks around. Nothing is accomplished."

"So then how do we do this? How do we get him when he comes after you?" Sam asked.

"We salt and burn him." Dean answered, his memory bringing images of the last time he'd done something like this.

"How do we salt and burn a spirit, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean turned to his brother. The truth of how this had to be played out not sitting well with him at all. Putting Rachel in the way again. No. There had to be another way. There had to be something they could do.

"Remember that girl I told you about in the car on the way here? The one that killed the guys that bled her out after taking her kidney's?"

"Yeah."

"Dad and I had to wait for her for three days until she became...Real I guess you'd call it. Then we immobilized her, salted and set her on fire."

"OK." Sam said as he took the book from Dean to read it himself. "So what's the plan? How do we do this? Especially the 'immobilizing' part?"

"Halting spell." Dean said.

"Devil's trap." Rachel added.

"Exorcism rite." Dean said.

"Binding ritual. Lot's of options." Rachel said leaning against the dresser with her arms crossed.

"You do realize that all of these things have to be done basically when your almost a shish-kA-bob at the end of his knife again right?" Dean said to her, angry now.

"What else would you have me do, Dean?" She asked with a deep frown of her own.

"I don't know. Let's just burn the damn knife and hope that does it." He said.

"You know that's not going to work." She said. "You father-"

"Forget him! He doesn't know that that's what did it and neither do we." Dean said raising his voice slightly.

"Dean, it looks like this is it. No other way." Sam said in his calm, reasonable manner he always did. Dean usually agreed with him but right now it was driving him mad.

"No. I saw let's drive there right now and burn the thing till it melts. He's got nothing to hold on to, he's got no way of killing any more." Dean argued.

"The journal say's specifically-" Rachel started but he cut her off again.

"I don't care what the journal says. This thing almost gave you a Cuban neck tie, Rachel."

"And I took care of my self, Dean." She said crossing her arms a little tighter over her chest and adding an annoyed bite to her tone. "I'm a hunter, remember? Every time I go after anything there's a chance that I'll die. Nothing is different here."

She wanted to give him attitude? When he was only trying to look after her? Anger raised in his chest. He told himself to bite it down but he couldn't help the intense feeling of needing to keep her from doing this.

"What's different is that you've got a voice of reason here. Let's do something else besides making you target practice."

"Your the voice of reason? Because I can't reason for myself, is that it?" She asked but didn't give him a chance to answer. "I have a mother already, Dean. I don't need another. This is how we're going to do it and that's it."

Now the anger flooded him. Her mother? Telling him how he was going to hunt? Who the Hell did she think she was?

"Guys." Sam said. "Arguing is not going to help here."

Dean ignored him. "'That's how we're going to do it and that's it'? Who the Hell died and made you boss?"

"No one. This was my hunt from the beginning, remember." She said walking to him till she stood about 6 inches away and had to look up at him. "I call the shots here. Be thankful that I didn't tell you and your brother to get the hell off my hunt when I beat you to that parking spot."

"OK. I'm going to get a couple of soda's" Sam said. "Hopefully you two will be done by the time I get back."

Staring at eachother hatefully they didn't even hear the door close behind him.

"I apologize your highness, but I forgot to wear my bowing shoes. Should I curtsy to your grand authority instead?" He shot.

She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. "I'm done, Dean. I'm going to take a shower. Maybe if I let you cool off you'll pull your head out of your ass and realize that I'm right." She dug through a draw and pulled out pajamas.

Good idea, Dean. He thought. Pulling your head out of your ass right now would be a great idea.

"No, Rachel. Your not right. You have this death wish and I'm only trying to make you realize it." He said.

She didn't answer but instead pushed past him toward the bathroom. The next words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"You think your sister would have wanted you to put yourself in danger like this?"

She swung around so fast to face him with blazing eyes that her hair swirled around her body. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen anything so sexy.

"Don't you dare!" She said through teeth that were almost clinched.

"That's what this is about isn't it? Your in this zone where you think nothing matters anymore because you think you killed your sister-"

"Dean. I said stop." She warned.

"Not even doing something stupid that could get you killed. She's gone Rachel! Not you! Your in such a hurry to join her over some stupid guilt?"

She threw her clothes on the bed and slapped him as hard as she could across his left cheek bone. Which was pretty hard because the blow made his head whip to the side.

He raised his hand to the burning flesh and realized he'd gone too far. He looked down at her face filled with hurt. Beautiful green eyes swimming with unshed tears, delicate chin trembling in anger and sweet features twisted in rage.

"You don't know anything about me!" She screamed and shoved him. "You don't know anything about her! You don't know what happened! Don't you dare talk about her that way!" She shoved at him again but this time he caught her. His large hands engulfing her slender wrists completely. Holding her but making sure that he didn't hurt her with too firm a grip.

"I know that she wouldn't want you to get hurt." He said. His voice softer, almost apologetic. "I don't want you to get hurt OK?"

Her face softened as she locked eyes with him. She made no move to pull away from him.

"I don't know why but I feel like I have to protect you. From yourself even." He admitted. His heart pounding.

"But your right..." He said finally, letting her go but still looking down into her eyes. "There's no other way. But I just want you to know that I'm going to be an inch away the whole time. I'm not going to let him slice you open again."

He watched her face change. Her eyes shifted away from him for an instant as if what he had said startled her. Hell it startled him.

"And... I'm sorry." He said.

She took a step back. Away from him.

"I'm sorry too." She said. "My sister...It still hurts really bad."

"I didn't mean to. But I'm not going to apologize for seeing it, Rachel. Anyone can." He said sinking down onto Sam's bed.

"I know." Was all she said. and disappeared into the bathroom only to return a second later with a wash cloth. Which she took over to the small ice bucket on the table and filled with ice chips.

She folded it as she walked over to him and sat facing him on the bed. She held the cloth out to cover his left cheek gently. He flinched when the cold cloth touched the slightly stinging flesh.

"I'm sorry about this." She said.

"Ahh, I can't handle it." He said with obviously fake bravado. "But if that was open handed I'd hate to see your right hook."

She laughed through her swollen eyes and a spike went through his heart that he'd made her cry. especially with something that he was sure hurt her like nothing else.

He took the cloth from her and they sat there for a long time in silence that should have been uncomfortable but for some reason wasn't.

"I feel better knowing your going to be so close." She said at last.

He looked at her again. Trying with everything in him to understand what it was about this girl that made him feel this way. Like he had to protect her and keep her safe. Like he wanted her to tell him all about her sister so that he could understand why she felt like she had punish herself.

How had she gotten under his skin in such a short time? The answer came to him.

Them sitting in the bar having dinner and beer flashed in his head. They'd talked about amulets and different ways they performed exorcisms and what gauge was best to pack rock salt into shotgun shells.

He'd had many drinks in many bars with many females in his adult life. Never once had he talked about any of those things.

Never once had he been himself. Except that one time. With her.

Once again he thought about Cassie. The only girl he'd ever tried to be honest with. What a train wreck that turned out to be.

He didn't even have to try with Rachel the way he'd tried with Cassie. They were on a hunt together. She was just like him. The thought terrified him.

"Me too." Was all he said.

She got up then, Retrieved her clothes and went into the bathroom closing the door behind her. A second later he heard the shower running.

The front door opened and he turned his head to see Sam walk in holding three soda can's. Sam stopped in his tracks when he looked up to see Dean sitting on the bed holding the ice pack to his cheek.

"So." Sam said with a slight smile on his face. "She finally punched you in the face huh? It's about time."


	16. Chapter 16

Tonight was the night. March 15th. The last time Jack would strike until who knew when. The three hunters had never figured out what started his cycles but they knew that the fifth killing was what ended it. At least for a little while. And the fifth killing was supposed to happen some time after midnight.

All these thoughts swam through Rachel's head as she sat in front of the lighted make-up mirror in the dressing room putting lip gloss on for what would be her final night as a stripper. She went over the plan in her head once again as she finished swiping the wand over her lips.

Sam and Dean were currently out in the night marking the path she would take on foot toward a secluded park with hidden devils traps and markers that only she would know to point her to them in case Jack decided he couldn't wait for the prime location they had picked out for their final stand to skewer her. The location that they had also safeguarded with immobilization traps to Insure that he was ensnared. If they couldn't physically burn him with the knife they had no chance.

She ran a brush through the ends of her hair one last time and recalled the last time she'd seen Dean tonight and the conversation they'd had. He'd walked her to her car as she left for the club, they'd made nice as much as they could after their blow out fight and she'd felt so guilty for hitting him that she'd actually gone out of her way to be sappily nice to him. Here he was, so worried about her and scared for her and what does she do? She hits him. Right across that beautiful face of his.

If she could have planted a thousand little kisses across that skin to make it better she would have. Or just held him and said how sorry she was.

But her guilt only mounted when he did nothing but smile at her and continue to show concern for her.

"You sure the luck of the Irish is gonna hold up tonight?" He'd asked as they stood by the Mustang with a slight grin on his face. "You know he's probably really mad at you. What with sticking him with salty knives and everything."

"I'll be fine." She'd said with a smile of her own. "I have great back up."

The sun was setting and he'd been squinting slightly in the fading light of late afternoon, she saw that in the setting sunlight his eyes had had a vibrant green glow to them with touches of gold and soft amber. She didn't think it was possible to have so many colors hidden there. Just another thing about him that she wished she could fall into and explore.

He'd placed his hand over his heart and feigned a look of hurt.

"'Back up'? Is that all I am to you, Rachel? I thought we had so much more." He'd said.

She'd smiled and shook her head.

"Smart ass." She'd replied.

He dropped the act and gave her a shrug and that smirk he was becoming so well known for in her head.

"Better than being a dumb ass."

She had to agree. And he was definitely no dumb ass. She'd been around many hunters in her life. Dredges of them. Some her fathers friends who treated her like a daughter and some she would never want to see again, but she had never know any as intimately as she now knew the Winchesters and in that knowledge she had never known as fierce and cunning a hunter as Dean. He wasn't afraid of anything and his whole heart was in this fight and every other he'd faced.

John Winchester must be very proud of his son. Where ever he was at the moment.

She turned toward the door to get ready for her first stage dance and thought to her self that it was a bad idea to sell Sam short. He might not be as physical as his brother when it came to hunting but if Dean where was the soldier then Sam was the general. She'd never met any one who knew lore and legend the way he did. If there was something out there that went bump in the night you could count on Sam to find out what it was fast and the most efficient way to kill it.

And, Hell, Sam could throw down some kick ass too.

They were a formidable team. John Winchester, again, where ever he was, should be very proud of both his boys. She felt great knowing that they where on her side. In a world where she hunted alone now, it was nice to able to depend on people. And as she stood behind the curtain waiting for the music to start and more importantly, midnight to arrive with it's unknown that most likely held a sharp blade with her name on it, she realized how nice it was to know she was looked after by people she trusted so much.

Midnight came too quickly for Sam. He and Dean finished their trap laying for Jack with only fifteen minutes to spare and that was only because Dean had become very aware of the passage of time and as midnight crept closer he rushed himself, and Sam by association, to finish the spray painted symbols and hidden markers for Rachel.

Now here Sam was, trapped in the Impala with him as he rushed toward the club before the hands of the clock could come together.

"Dean you do realize that she'll probably be fine until she gets off at 1:30?" Sam said. "He's never attacked anyone while they were in a crowded place. Not even when he was alive."

"I don't care." Was all Dean said as he continued to watch the road. "This is it. He's coming tonight and we shouldn't miss a second of the time he might show."

Sam studied his brother with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement he couldn't help but rib him a little right now. He'd never had a chance any more since Rachel had been staying with them.

"You've got it bad man." Sam said with a half smile.

"C'mon Sammy cut it out. You wanna get this thing too. Right?" Dean said with a brief glance toward him.

"Oh yeah. Sure. It's the monster your so worried about missing. Not Rachel getting hurt. Don't even pretend your not obvious."

"Sam, We protect people don't we? Rachel is one of the people that need protecting right now, why should we be worried about her any less than a stranger?"

"No, you right. We protect people and she's in danger." Sam admitted. "The difference here is that 1: she's a hunter and needs protection less than anybody else and 2: your worried about her like you would be for me or dad."

Dean shot him wide eyed look then caught himself and smirked.

"Give up Sam." He said.

"No. Are you trying to kid me or yourself here?" Sam asked and truly wondered about the answer when Dean remained silent.

"We're here." Dean said pulling into a spot in the parking lot in the back of the club. "Let's go."

"Woah." Sam said as his brother started to open his door. "We're not going in, are we?"

"Um...Yeah." Dean said.

"Dean. We can't go in. Rachel would kill if she saw us in there." Sam reminded him.

"Sam. It's midnight. She doesn't get off for another hour and a half. I'm not going to sit here when he could strike any second." Dean said seriously. Then got out of the car. Not giving Sam any choice but to follow.

By the time he shut the door and looked at Dean over the roof of the car, his brother was smiling from ear to ear.

"Besides Sammy. You tell me that it's fair that we do a job centered around strippers and have yet to see an ounce more female flesh than we'd otherwise be entitled to."

"Entitled to?" Sam said with slightly raised eyebrows and a small grin of his own.

"Yeah. Entitled to." Dean said and started walking toward the door. Sam fell in step beside him. "You know that if Rachel wasn't here on this one you or me would be the ones with jobs in there."

"I'm not sure we would look the same in stiletto's Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"I mean as bartenders or bouncers or something. They would have hired you on the spot Sasquatch."

They came to the door and Dean held it open for him but not before he gave Sam one more wicked smile.

"Then we would have been with all the girls." He said with a few suggestive wiggles of his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't be able to keep your head in the right place if that were the case and you know it." Sam said.

Dean feigned a look of hurt and went on the defensive.

"What do you mean? I would be able to keep my head exactly where it belongs."

Sam gave a sigh and turned toward the open entrance of the club.

"I meant the one on top of your neck." He said as he turned away and walked inside. He heard Dean give pause, then finally say:

"Not sure I can argue with you one that one, Sammy."

Dean rounded the corner that took them into the club, after the bouncer checked their I. D's, with Sam next to him and paused to take everything in. Loud techno rock poured out of the speakers and the strobe lights flickered everywhere. Dean's eyes immediately scanned for Rachel in the somewhat dim light and couldn't find her.

He heard Sam say something about taking a table far away from the stage so that maybe they could not let Rachel see them. He agreed as his eyes stopped looking for Rachel and instead followed a busty blond that walked by them and flashed him a smile.

He flashed the smile back and let Sam lead him where ever he wanted. Thinking more about how much he wished all his surveillance gigs where like this one.

He slid into the wooden seat and listened as Sam gave the tall brunette that was their waitress an order for two beers. Dean didn't get what kind his brother ordered for him because he was too busy checking out the beautiful sight of the girls ass in her short waitress skirt.

He gave up a smile for her as she turned to fill their order and was rewarded with one back accompanied by a wink. When he was done watching her walk away he turned to his brother, still smiling.

"Yeah. Your right Sam. I couldn't have done this."

Sam chuckled "That's an understatement."

Five minutes later, with beer in hand, he still hadn't seen Rachel. Even though he was diligently looking for her. More or less. Some times a hot girl with barely any clothes on would hamper his sight and he would just have to, out of respect, give her a few seconds of his attention.

But then he would go right back to trying to find Rachel.

All that changed when a voice announced over the loud speaker that the next stage show would start immediately.

The lights dimmed even further and music changed to a soft, almost Arabian beat.

Dean watched the stage, which they where far away from but still had a perfect view of, with anticipation of seeing some of the female flesh he was entitled to.

He had to swallow his beer twice when the first girl to walk out onto the stage and take the first pole was none other than Rachel herself.

Clad in a white mini skirt, white stiletto's, a white T-shirt that was bound in a knot at her back and slit from the collar to her breast bone to bare her flat belly and the large mounds of her breasts that where displayed beautifully by a push-up bra, her hair piled on top of her head by a clip she moved slowly, each hip swaying with every step she took toward the pole.

Every other girl in the place disappeared to him as he watched her.

Watched her long legs in the heels as she danced around the metal pole to the soft beats of the music. Watched the fluidity of her movements as she undulated and twirled.

The crowd in front of the stage hooted and hollered and finally after just the right amount of time Rachel gave them what they wanted. Sliding to her knees with the pole at her back she grabbed the front of her white T-shirt and pulled it apart the rest of the way until it gave way just above her navel. She pulled the material down her arms, arching her back to fully maximize the sight of her beautiful breasts in the white lacy bra underneath.

Dean realized he was holding his breath and exhaled, never taking his eyes from her as she stood back up to dance again. Warmth in his belly as his groin tightened pleasurably to the sight of back to him now. Smooth and narrow and giving way to full, femininely flared hips that she rotated with slow sensuality to match to thrum of the music. He felt himself begin to harden at the sight.

She turned back to face her audience and began unfastening the button of her skirt. Cheers erupted from the crowd as she pulled the zipper down and began sliding the material down her hips.

If Dean had only been slightly less aware of Sam sitting next to him he would have reached down and squeezed his now aching cock through his jeans at the sight of this amazingly beautiful, amazingly sexy woman as she slid the skirt down her legs, revealing white lace panties to match, to pool at her feet then run her hands up her thighs as she stood back up.

Thighs that Dean couldn't help but now imagine wrapped around his waist.

Up her torso,

Which he imagined his own fingers sliding up slowly.

Against her breasts,

Which would feel wonderful crushed against his chest.

To her neck,

Which he would love to plant tiny, nipping kisses to.

Finally her fingers found the clip in her hair and released it, sending the thick, dark mass cascading down her body.

Dean heard himself take a sharp inhalation at the sight. So incredibly sexy was the sight of the flowing tresses around her hip and ass as she moved to the credeso of the song. Falling down her back as she moved in the most teasing way around the pole. Not moving vulgarly, like the other girls, but sensuously and titillatingly. Like she danced for a sheik as part of his harem to the strums of the zither.

Arching her back, running her fingers through her hair, undulating her body to the point that he ached for her. Every bit as sexy as he would have imagined her to be and more. She literally took his breath away.

Then it was over. She moved to the back of the stage as the music came to an end. Never having seen them at all and not knowing that he had seen her dance.

As the lights came back up he heard Sam clear his throat. He glanced over at his brother as he felt his jeans begin to loosen slightly with the object of his arousal no longer in sight. he took a swig of his beer and waited for Sam to make his comment.

"So this is how we're protecting her from Jack?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. No point in even denying it to Sam right now, not with his blood at the boiling point as it were.

"Forget Jack, Sam." Dean said, taking another drink from the bottle. "If she where here in right now you'd have to protect her from me."


	17. Chapter 17

20 Minuets later she was standing at their table in her waitress uniform with one hand on her hip, one eyebrow up in the air and her foot tapping on the floor. Dean looked up at her and feigned surprise.

"Rachel?!" He said with the biggest smile he could muster. "What on earth are you doing here? Sam and I we're just having a beer, you should join us."

"What are you two doing in here?" She said in calm, measured tones. The subtle squint of her eyes that accompanied the question said that she was not in the mood for his bullshit.

"Angry spirit of Jack The Ripper? Coming for your cute little ass tonight? Trying to destroy him? Any of this ring a bell?" He asked.

"How long have you been here?" She asked. Dean could imagine why she wanted to know.

"Not long at all Rachel. We swear." Sam jumped in trying to save his own neck.

She stared at each of them in turn angrily, trying to judge if they had seen her provocative dance earlier. Dean swore he actually saw his brother shrink under her intense green gaze.

"We're out of here in 10 minuets." She said. "Try to act civil till then, huh?" She said looking point blank at Dean.

He was about to protest that Sam could be just as much a dog as he could be but she didn't give him the chance. Instead she turned on her heel and headed in the other direction toward the bar. Dean couldn't help but stare at the beautiful sight of her retreating ass in the miniskirt, her bare legs taking long strides, her hips swinging with each step, the ends of her long black hair brushing against the exposed bare patch of skin that was the small of her back.

"I told you." Sam said, bringing him back down to Earth. Dean shrugged.

"She'll get over it." He replied.

At 1:37 am Rachel was dressed and ready to head out the door to her final confrontation with Jack. She ducked into the bathroom to use a stall to dress instead of the dressing room because there where several items she needed to strap to her body that the rest of the girls would ask questions about.  
Such as the 38 caliber hand gun loaded with rock salt ammo that she tucked into the waistband of her jeans at her left hip, the salt cured knife that had saved her at the first confrontation which she holstered and clipped to the inside of her belt at the back of her jeans.  
The blade in its sheath pressed into her left butt cheek but it was concealed well enough and gave her easy access to it, she'd just have to make sure she didn't walk funny.

She slid four large pellets made of paintball material filled with rock salt into her bra cups. The pellets would burst when hitting a target easily, just like a paintball. She checked them in the mirror and saw the bulkiness that gave them away and readjusted until they couldn't be seen.

She slipped a tiny mojo bag on a long thread chain Sam had gotten from a voodoo priest for her around her neck. It was filled with various things that protect her from evil spirits.

Besides that she armed herself with a small bottle of liter fluid, a zippo liter, her small incantation book with the rituals she would need to destroy the knife and keep the spirit at bay until she did once she got her hands on it. These things weren't crucial like the weapons she would need to protect herself because Sam and Dean would be unseen in the wake of her footsteps the whole time but she felt better having them than not. No one knew what would happen in these situations so she thought the more self contained she was the better.

Giving her self one final look in the mirror and a small nod of approval she headed out into the club toward the front door and away from the mini life she had made for herself as a stripper. She was surprised that she was actually sad to say good-bye to it.

She paused at the door and looked toward the table the Winchester brothers where sitting. They were on their feet and ready to follow her. She locked eyes with Dean and he nodded so slightly she was sure she was the only one that saw it. An acknowledgment that she wouldn't see him as she tried to pull jack into the open but that he was going to watch and be right there if she needed him. Feeling reassured, she nodded back and pushed out into the night. The hunt was on.

The wind rustling through the threes in the hot night was the only sound besides her foot falls as Rachel walked along the deserted streets leading to the park. She hugged herself despite the muggy air against some unfelt chill that had crept into her bones.

She wasn't scared but the feeling of being the only human left on the planet was creepy. She felt watched and tried to attribute it to the fact that Sam and Dean where somewhere, either in the car or on foot, she didn't know, with her in sight at all times. She had to appear to be alone for Jack to make his move so their absents was essential.

As she moved through the streets she took notice of the markers they had left for her; a small arrow on the glass of a bus stop shelter told her that a devil's trap was spray painted on the roof of the shelter and that if Jack attacked here all she would have to do was get him to that spot. She walked past it when nothing happened.

A chalk arrow in the street told her an other trap was painted above the manhole cover a few feet away. Nothing happened and she kept walking.

She passed several more along the way and before she knew it she was nearing the park. Her heart sank as she thought that maybe Jack wouldn't show. Maybe they had been wrong about his motives and target and he had gone after another girl already. Maybe another girl was dead already as she walked in the night waiting for the spirit that wouldn't come.

All these thoughts ran through her head as she passed the picnic area adjacent to the playground. French style lampposts lit the way along the edge of the lawn that held barbecue pits and wooden picnic tables for out door cook outs.

She had just let out a sigh of frustration at the notion that she had failed when the lights began to flicker.

She stopped dead in her tracks and waited as the flickering got more intense.

Then the lights went out altogether.

Darkness all around her. Not another soul in sight. A chill crept up her spine and a pit grew in her stomach from anticipation rather than fear even before she heard the awful, but now familiar voice call her name.

"Raaaaaccchhhelllll."

Barely a whisper. Rachel couldn't help the smile came to her face.

"I knew you'd come for me Jackie." She whispered more to herself that to the spirit that now shared her space. Relieved that no other girl would suffer and that their plan had already half worked.

"Sooooo Beeaauutifuullll." Jack whispered. Just like before.

Rachel reached for the gun at her hip and the knife in her back simultaneously as she stretched her eyes in the weak light coming from the lamps along the road, looking for the specter.

There. A dim outline of him standing next to the street lamp 50 yards away.

She locked her gaze on him and felt the rush of adrenaline that came with facing off with the thing you'd been hunting and took a deep breath to revel in it for a moment. She squeezed the knife handle and the gun, the weapons of her trade, in each of her fists and felt reassured by their solid presents.

"Sooooo Beeaauutifuullll." It repeated. She'd had enough of this foreplay.

"Got your pretty little knife, Jack?" She called out. "Then come and carve off my beautiful face and stop talking shit."

He was inches from her face in the next instant. Just like that. One second he was by the lamp and the next her was right in front of her. She flinched back startled at the sight of his bloated and puffy dead face but stood her ground as she tensed and raised the blade to run him through if she needed to.

His breath sour in her nostrils, he raised his knife as well. Slowly between them at eye level. Threatening her but tempting her to take it from him.

She took his invitation and punched him as hard as she could right in the face. Her fist made solid contact and with a grunt the spirits lunged back from her. In an instant he recovered and came at her, this time with the knife poised over his head to strike.

Rachel planted her feet and once he was in striking range she slashed out with her blade toward his face. The knife made contact with his right cheek bone. With a howl he staggered back from her again and Rachel saw the most peculiar thing happen. The right side of his head, where the knife had landed, evaporated into smoke as if he where about to dissipate like spirits do in reaction to salt, but before it fully disappears the smoke gathered and became whole again. Flesh once more.

He turned angry eyes to. He must be seriously pissed to be able to hold on like that in reaction to her salt cured knife. He wanted her bad and was doing everything he could to stay whole so that he could slice her open.

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat and focused. She just had to keep him immobile long enough to salt and burn him with his knife. And where the Hell where Sam and Dean?

She didn't get to finish the thought because Jack was coming at her once again. Like a rhino with his head tucked down a bit closed in on her, he raised the knife. Dropping the gun to the floor, she caught his wrist before he could bring it down while simultaneously raising her own. Like wise he caught her wrist before she could bring it down and so locked they struggled against one another.

Rachel pushed with all her might against him while her eyes never left the slightly rusty edge of his blade. It came closer to her and just when she realized that she couldn't keep this up forever, he was stronger then her and would eventually win this reverse tug of war, she took other measures. She raised her knee hard right into his groin and prayed that even in death she could hurt him there.

It paid off. With a grunt he doubled over slightly and that gave her the advantage that she needed. She kicked him squarely in the chest as hard as she could and he went flying backwards onto the pavement.

Straightening up to steady herself for his next attack, the next thought after wondering where the Winchesters where again was where was the marker and trap they left for her in this vicinity. She had failed to locate it when the lights went off and here in the near gloom while fighting off the spirit of Jack The Ripper it was nearly impossible to make out.

She cleared her mind once again when she saw Jack get up from where he'd fallen and face her. It was a micro second later that he disappeared from her sight and she felt two arms encircle her, one around her waist and the other painfully around her neck. The bastard had done his Houdini act and reappeared directly behind her to put her in a choke hold.

She struggled for breath and tried to pry his arm from around her as she realized that his knife was an inch from her throat. The sight of it reminded her that she still held her own weapons and she put one to use immediately by arcing her right hand, the one with the knife, down and behind her.

The blade slid into his right thigh and with a startled scream of pain his grip loosened on her. She didn't miss a beat and instantly used her momentum once she was free of his grip to pivot on her right foot 180 degrees to face him while balling her left fist, which still held the gun, and slamming it into his face.

She caught the last glimpse of his leg where she had stabbed him retuning from smoke form as he stumbled back. The sight of it took her attention for a fraction of a second too long and Jack was able land a punch of his own. Right across her right cheek bone and this time it was her turn to stumble back with a cry of pain.

She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. She had no idea where the trap was and if the Calvary didn't arrive soon she had a good feeling she'd be dog meat.

WHERE THE HELL ARE SAM AND DEAN??

Jack was coming at her once again and she thought better of the knife this time and instead raised the gun. He was a too fast. Just as she was squeezing the trigger Jack lashed out with his blade again at her gun hand and she felt the hot searing pain of it cutting through the fleshy part of her hand right above her thumb.

The gun flew from her grip and she felt Jack's fist once again land on her face. This time across her jaw. She doubled over and felt his hand clench her throat as she sank to the ground. He was coming down with her to pin her to the pavement and she reacted as fast as she could while she still had the room to maneuver, bringing her leg up, she planted her foot in the center of his chest with the pavement at her back, pushed off as hard as she could.

Three things happened at once then. First, as she stood up, keeping her eyes on Jack, she heard the roar of an engine and the screeching of tires. All of a sudden Jack was bathed in white light from the headlights of a car that screeched to a halt at a 90 degree angel to the sidewalk. Startled, Jack Sheilded his eyes from the bright light.

Second, when Rachel finished erecting herself fully she took note that it was in fact the Impala and Sam was behind the wheel.

The third thing was the awareness of the presence beside her. She felt him before fully seeing him.

Dean. Standing right next to her as she straightened up. His back turned slightly to her, his right arm extended with the sawed off shot gun in his hand, pointed right at Jack.

She smiled as he pulled the trigger.

The buck shot of salt hit Jack in the chest and he was no match for it. His form dissipated instantly and he was gone.

Sam left the lights on and the engine running as he jumped from the car and over to where she and his brother were standing.

"Well, better late than never I suppose." She said, cradling her left hand which was now dripping with blood and trying to keep it away from Sam who was trying to catch it so he could get a better look at the wound. Dean pulled more shells out of his jeans and began reloading the shot gun.

"We thought we'd give Jack a false sense of confidence by leaving you two love birds alone for just a bit." Dean said.

Sam managed to catch her hand and tied a white handkerchief that he pulled out of his pocket around it.

"We better hurry. He could be back any second." Sam said as he tied a small knot, trying not to hurt her.

"It was too dark to see where the trap was. I was fighting blind." She said.

"It's over that picnic table." Dean said and pointed toward one of the rust colored things about 20 paces down the line.

"RAAACCCHHEEELLL" The angry, gruff voice rang out, making them all flinch.

Jack reappeared in the same spot that he had made his exit from. Rachel felt the air grow cold around her but was reassured by the presence of a Winchester on each of her sides.

"Wow. This guy doesn't give up easy." Dean said.

"No." Rachel agreed. "I'm his last and he's not going to go without me."

"Rachel. You got the prayer book I gave you?" Sam asked as they all watched Jack for his next move.

"My back pocket." Rachel informed him as Dean pumped the gun to chamber the round.

She felt Sam's hand reach into her pocket and pull the small book free, thinking that if they weren't in a life or death situation she would make some crack about him touching her ass.

Dean pointed the gun at Jack again and called out in a loud voice.

"Come for her again and I'm going to blow your ugly, dead head off your shoulders."

He lunged for them just then. Dean tensed aiming the shot gun and Rachel raised the knife in readiness. Jack stopped dead in his tracks about 10 feet from them as Sam's voice rang out in Latin.

"Arrestius momentarium." Sam called. "Hartarius sinomium creste."

Jack jerked as if he tried to move forward but was bound by unseen ropes. Sam continued to recite in late, moving closer to Jack as he did.

"Binding ritual." Rachel said.

"Taught him everything he knows." Dean said as he made a smug face and shrugged slightly.

Rachel turned and smiled at him. Amazed that even in this crazy situation they where in she could be charmed by him.

"I'm sure you did." She said.

"Was there ever any doubt?" he asked as if it where the most absurd question he'd ever heard.

She laughed and he finally cracked a smile.

"Um...guys?" Sam called to them.

The turned to him and saw that he had Jack on his back on the pavement withering and struggle against the "curse" that was the verbal equivalent of a devil's trap.

"Accelerant? Burning the demon? Maybe?" he said to them in a chastising voice.

Rachel and Dean walked over to them, not afraid to get close, Jack wasn't a threat anymore and in a few minuets would be gone.

"Does he have the knife?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah. He's still holding it." Sam answered.

She pulled the small bottle of lighter fluid from her pocket as Dean walked off toward the Impala still sitting in the street. She focused the stream on the knife and Dean took care of the rest when he began dumping the contents of a 5 gallon gas can over Jack.

When the spirit was "soaked" Rachel pulled the zippo from her jeans and with her good hand flipped it open and ran the flint wheel against the thigh of her jeans till the wick cought fire.

Without a second thought she threw the open flame onto the still struggling mass murderer and took a step back when the whole of Jacks body exploded into flames.

He screamed for an entire minuet as they stood there and watched. Watched the most famous killer in the world finally get the justice that was coming to him for over a century.

Just as Rachel was starting to think that they should go before someone called the cops Jack, Prince Eddy, got still and just disappeared. The knife was left behind still burning. A charred and twisted thing it was now.

They watched it burn until there was nothing left but a bent piece of metal and the ash that had once been the handle.


	18. Chapter 18

After the fire had gone out, Dean knelt over the charred patch of pavement and wrapped up what was left of the blade in a strip of cloth.

"What are we going to do with that?" Sam asked.

"I was thinking toss it in the Mississippi on our way out of here." Dean answered.

"Think he's really gone?" Rachel asked, cradling her hand and noticing that the white handkerchief was now soaked through with blood.

"No way to really be sure, I think. We just have to hope dad was right." Sam answered. Just then, in the distance a siren sounded. All three turned their heads in the direction it came from to listen. Probably blocks away but getting closer.

"We need to go." Dean said after a second and in unison they headed toward the Impala.

"Wow." Rachel said as they stepped off the curb. "We just took down 'Jack The Ripper' you guys."

"Forget that." Sam said as he eyed the blood now dripping down Rachel's fingers. "I think it's more impressive that we're probably three of only maybe a handful of people in history who knew who he really was. Rachel, you have to go to the hospital."

They stopped outside the open door of the car and Rachel began her protest. "I'll be fine, Sam."

Dean took her wrist gently and lifted it for inspection, she tried to pull away but every time she did he increased the pressure of his fingers, preventing her escape. She wouldn't be able to win a tug of war with him even if she weren't hurt so she gave up and allowed him to move the handkerchief and look at the cut.

More than a cut and more like a deep gash an inch and a half long just over her left thumb, she admitted to herself that it was more serious than she'd hoped. When Dean asked her to move her fingers and she flinched at the pain that shot up to her elbow, she agreed to go to the hospital for stitches.

As Sam got in the back seat to give her the front, he asked what they where going to say about how she got it. Dean answered for her as he slid into the seat next to her.

"That's easy." He said. "We'll admit that your a stripper and tell them your knife juggling act went terribly wrong."

She stared at him as he started the car.

"So what am I? An 'extreme stripper'?" She asked with a hint of a smile on her lips.

Putting the car in gear and backing away from the curb he gave her a smile of his own.

"Hey, you can be the stripper than caters to your clubs kinkier clientele."

"How about a glass in the broke as I was washing dishes?" She offered.

"Fine, if you wanna be boring." He said and drove away from the sight of Jack's last stand and in the direction a sign told him the hospital was in.

It was 3 miles away and the whole time Dean almost cared more about her than the blood that dripped in his car. She promised get to him new floor mats if he would just shut up.

When they got there the nurses took her back almost immediately after seeing the cut and the amount of blood still coming out of it. The boys napped in the waiting room and 45 minuets later she emerged with an ace bandage around her hand to her wrist.

Heading back toward the car she told them the wound had required seven stitches and the doctor said there might be a little bit of nerve damage. She also told them that they didn't believe the whole 'glass broke in the sink' bit either but they didn't call the cops because she had insisted that that's what happened. With no proof of anything otherwise, they had let it go.

After stopping back at the club parking lot for her car, It was a little after 4:00 A.M when they got back to the room and all three of them crashed asleep within 10 minuets of opening the door.

By 11:00 am they where up packing and taking turns in the shower to rid them selves of the smell of salt and smoke and, in Rachel's case anyway, spilled beer and cheap cologne.

Soon it was time to go. A quick sweep of the room rid it of their prolonged presence; all the salt from the windowsills and doorways, all the weapons and extra ammo kept close at hand, all the talismans and charms kept under mattresses and various other places that was part of their everyday routines while on a job.

"Where you two headed?" Rachel asked as she reached under Sam's bed for the Gris-Gris bag she'd been keeping there.

"I don't know." Dean answered as he shoved shirts into his duffle bag. "Sam found some dude somewhere that had his brains eaten by bugs or something."

"Eeeww." Rachel said making a face.

"My sentiments exactly." Sam replied as he packed his laptop. "But it just raised an alarm when I read about it, so I figured we'd check it out. Where you going?"

"A contact of mine called me a few days ago and said that they'd found what looks to be a witch doctor shrinking heads up north a bit. So I'm gonna head out there."

The finished packing in silence. And as they did it fully hit Rachel that she would be saying good bye to them. An unexpected sadness came with the thought and she tried to shake it off as much as she could.

THIS IS A GOOD THING. She reasoned with herself. YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY TO PUT DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU TWO.

But no matter how much she tried to be upbeat about it she couldn't fight the slight edge of disappointment in not waking up to his face in the morning.

The cars where parked about 90 feet away from each other in the lot outside. It took them several trips to load them up with their clothes and gear as this case had been particularly lengthy and had required them to settle in more than usual.

Finally all that remained where Rachel's back pack, her large duffle, and the boy's bag with the laptop and emf. Sam grabbed the later and turned to Rachel.

"Wow. Good-bye already?" He said. Rachel couldn't help the heaviness of her heart at the sight of his large brown eyes, his cute little crooked smile and the slight furrow of his brow.

"Aww Sam." She said with a huge smile of her own. "Please don't look at me like that."

He scooped her up in arms that seemed could go around her twice and she returned the bear hug with her arms around his neck.

"Be safe OK." He whispered in her ear.

"I will. You, too." She whispered back.

"I'm gonna cry." Dean said behind them as they let go of their hug.

They both turned to glare at him and she saw that he had the dumbest grin on his face.

"Your an asshole." She said.

"And proud of it." He shot back.

"I'm gonna go load the rest of this. See you at the car." Sam said to his brother and with one final nod in Rachel's direction he walked out the door.

"Carry this for me?" She said to him motioning to the large duffle on the ground as she shouldered her back pack.

He picked it up and she led the way out the door into the muggy, overcast day. when they got to the Mustang she unlocked the trunk and he threw the duffle in with the rest of her things. He closed the trunk then turned to face her as he leaned against the cars flank. The inevitable good bye was here.

"So, witch doctor huh? You struck me more as an evil, voodoo priest type of girl." He said.

She laughed. "Yeah well, I'll take anything but the cockroaches Sam's got you after now." She said.

He seemed to think about that for a moment then nodded in agreement.

"Your right. Go get those shrunken heads and know that I am so jealous." He said closing his eyes and emphasizing the 'so.' Her heart skipped a beat a little and after a chuckle she reached into the back pack she still held and pulled out his fathers worn leather journal.

Serious once more, she held it out him.

"This is yours." She said. "Thank you for letting me look at it. I can't tell you how much I've learned. You fathers a genius, you know?"

It was with an almost sadness that he reached out for it and took it back.

"Yeah." He said looking up at her again. "Such a fucking genius that Sam and I can't even find where he disappeared off the face of the planet."

"You'll find him." She assured.

"Doesn't seem likely." He said.

She laughed softly and shook her head at him then.

"What?" He asked.

"I've never met your father. Know nothing about him besides what that book and you and Sam have told me, and I can tell you right now that you'll find him because your just like him Dean. When I say your fathers a genius I mean so is his son." She said.

He met her eyes with a deep seriousness that said he was grateful for the comparison.

She saw his venerability for the first time then. He'd let his guard down in this conversation about his father, hunting, his role in it all and she could see the true Dean Winchester for a moment in his eyes. At the time she didn't recognize it, but with time she would get this glimpse again and as she knew him better it would make more sense.

This was a look at the powerful soldier that he was that would go to any extreme to keep his family safe, the born hunter that knew almost nothing else, and the hurt soul behind all that that never felt what he gave and sacrificed was enough. Who felt guilty in the brief moments when he ached for something for himself.

It was gone as quickly as it came. Replaced once again by the wise cracking bravado that he'd perfected.

"I'll see you out there Winchester." She said. Not quite able to say 'good-bye'

"Will you? This might be the last time we ever see each other." He said.

She didn't like how uncomfortable that thought made her. But she needed to wave that off as soon as he'd said it.

"C'mon Dean. We've met out here twice by accident now." She said. "I think it's pretty safe to say that it could happen again. Maybe on purpose next time."

"On purpose?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

She argued with herself about saying all this. Know that she needed to stay away from him but not being able to be OK with the idea of leaving with the possibility of never seeing him again. She had to leave the door open.

"Would that be so bad? I think we all make a pretty good team." She said.

Her heart skipped with his eyes turned mischievous then. That look she recognized immediately.

"No, it wouldn't be so bad." He answered. "But can I ask you one question before you go? The thought will kill me if I don't know."

Giving him a sidelong glance and wondering what he was up to she reluctantly answered 'OK.'

His smile could have stopped her heart just then. "You still wearing those white bra and panties?"

She never broke eye contact with him as his question and what it revealed sunk in. She didn't even flinch even though inside the heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

"You where there?" She asked.

"You knew I would be." He said. His gaze intense.

"Well, to answer your question, no. I'm not wearing them right now. Did you like them?" She asked being a little mischievous herself.

"Very much." He answered.

"Well, you can borrow them any time you'd like. I'm sure they'll look great on you."

She got a laugh from him then and praised herself for being able to give him back a little of the shit he put out.

But then it was all seriousness again. She felt the heat coming from him and let it emanate her body.

"I like the way they look on you." He said. "Maybe one of these day's you'll let me see you in them on purpose."

The air sizzled around them as they held each other's gaze. She felt the raw sexual power coming from him and wanted nothing more at that moment than to lean into him and kiss his beautiful mouth, feel his arms around her and melt into him. She chided herself for that and thought of the lonely car ride ahead of her. Without Kelly in the passenger seat. Kelly, who would kiss no one ever again because Rachel hadn't saved her.

Speaking slowly, looking into his eyes with all the want and sadness she felt at the moment, she gave him the most honest answer that she could.

"Dean, in another life, you would have already."

The moment hung in the air between them as they stared at each other. Her eyes expressing the truthfulness of what she'd just said and his expressing the understanding of it all. She was grateful to him for not going any further.

"I've gotta go." She said looking down and breaking eye contact.

He eased out of her way and she moved to the driver door and opened it.

"Rachel," He said.

She looked back at him before getting into the car.

"Call me if you need me out there." He finished.

She smiled at him.

"Same here, OK?" She offered.

He smiled back at her and she got in the car before she could let the smile affect her too much.

She started the car and let the purr of the engine distract her from her thoughts. She didn't look back as she drove off.

It wasn't until she was on the highway that she let herself tear up with thoughts of her sister and the guilt that was with her constantly. No. Not constantly, she realized. She thought of the few moments in the last weeks when she'd been the most peaceful since her sisters death.

Dancing very slowly with Dean in a dim bar. Sitting under a willow tree with him in the middle of the night. Flirtatiously showing him her tattoo's. A few minuets ago when she'd wanted to kiss him so bad.

As she drove she wasn't sure if this was a good thing or bad. She smiled through her tears anyway.

**The End**

_Authors note:_

_Phew! That was a long time coming huh? I want to thank my readers first and foremost for staying with me for the year+ that this story took to finish. I know the chapters where slow coming and far in-between but I want to thank each and every one of you remaining interested and staying with me till the end. For those of you that are a little disappointed in the end (That Rachel and Dean didn't hook up a little more) I just want you to know that I'm doing that for a reason, I have a lot planned for the two of them and it's going to happen in good time. I've been screwing around with the episode "Scarecrow." And I think that's the next one in which we'll see Rachel and I promise at least a kiss. _

_I hope you'll all come along with me for that one and once again, thank you all for letting me bring Rachel to life and excepting her like you all have. See you all in the next story!!_


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